It Ain't Me Babe
by Richard Banker
Summary: An alternative series 5 - deceitful sons, privatisation and oily scews all find themselves on the wrong side of Yvonne and Karen, who at the same time begin to realise their feelings for each other. Yvonne/Karen.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: All the characters used within this story are the property of Shed Productions. I am using them solely to explore my creative ability.

ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

SPOILRERS: Up to series 5.

It Ain't Me Babe

An Alternative series 5 Karen / Yvonne Tribute

By

Richard

Scene 1

Yvonne's cell door clanged back into its recess and she flung herself on her bed, mentally exhausted.

She'd let it slip privately to Karen the other day the bad news about Colin's addiction and had been in Karen's office with Colin. She'd looked at him as

he silently pleaded with her with that look in his eye that nearly softened her to cover up for him. This time she hardened her heart and repeated to Karen

the truth about Colin's heroin addiction.

Karen, in boiling anger rolled up Colin's sleeve to reveal the telltale evil red mark on his arm where all his money flowed in and all his self respect

had drained away and her blue eyes damned him for letting her down once too often. You have standards to uphold, Colin, her thoughts blazed, and to wallow

down into the subworld of the dealers on the outside is to put yourself on the same level as the dealers among the prisoners. They are the ones we have

to piss test only you have more money than them to support your habit. You let yourself down and let down the prison service, she wanted to tell him also

but she could see that look in his eye and so a cropped down officially correct form of words came from her lips instead, which was a compromise and had

the worst faults of compromises. The whole thing left a bitter taste in her mouth. Not a trace of Karen's moral dilemma showed in her face and voice except

to Yvonne's sharp sympathetic eyes. .

By grabbing at this one chance and not weakening, Yvonne had solved a problem that had been burning away at her. It was done now. There was pain in Yvonne's

eyes for his wasted life and the way she had had to take the simple brutal course of action and grass on him which would finish his career. Yvonne could

have acted according to her heart and try to fight his inevitable further spiral down into his addiction. That would only have prolonged the agony and

he would have ended up in a worse mess than now. If he can't fight it for himself, no one could do it for him. It was the right thing to do. But it didn't

make her feel any better. As Colin passed by her, limp and drained, there was a look in Karen's eyes that read the feelings mapped out in Yvonne's face.

She had also had to do her share of the brutal hatchet job so she knew how Yvonne felt also. Then he was gone.

"Go way from my window

Leave at your own chosen speed."

She'd been sucked into a brief affair by a man who was a different proposition than the succession of men she had known. So why in hell did she get dragged

into mothering Colin's heroin addiction? He was good shag to begin with, something she had missed unbelievably all these months at Larkhall. She ended

up talking to him about his addiction, how he'd tried so hard to give up and that she would never understand that unless she were using herself. It wasn't

as easy as simply "just say no." He was almost suggesting that she try it for herself so she knew what she was talking about but she dragged that insinuation

into the open and told him that that was bollocks. She had seen her share of smackheads in Larkhall. But she'd learned from that not to trust his endless

pleas to be trusted. She could tell from his eyes if they were 'pinned' whether or not he'd been using or not. "Don't make me grovel." he used to keep

on saying to her, laying a guilt trip on her for being too hard on him. She'd bite her tongue back to begin with till she had stopped believing in all

his shit. That happened when Denny, with tears in her eyes, force marched her into her cell and told her about a girl she'd once loved before Shell came

on the scene who had OD'd and that 'there is nothing you can do for a junkie, man.'

I'm not the one you want, babe

I'm not the one you need

You say you're looking for someone

Never weak but always strong

He'd look wistfully into Yvonne's eyes as the woman/mother figure who could put the blocks on Fenner when he had the knack of staring right into his eyes

and seeing the fear there. Somehow he always knew. He saw Fenner when he ran up against her and Fenner was different with her. That suppressed rage that

boiled over and the threats he uttered was the mark of a man who banged up against an immovable object and didn't scare her. Couldn't she see how much

he needed her?

To protect you and defend you

Whether you are right or wrong

Someone who will open each and every door

Her mind went back to the time that Ritchie used to when he lived at home. "Don't let Dad know about it. I'm depending on you, mum." he'd say with that

little boy look on her face and had worked every time. She had got dragged into hiding yet another secret from Charlie till it was one secret too far and

Charlie had found out. She remembered Charlie's contorted face as he started to beat Ritchie black and blue and being frozen to the spot. She couldn't

move as she had got sick of Ritchie's lies, and besides, for once she ought to stand by Charlie, bastard though he was. She was sick of acting as go between.

She got used to smooth down situations at home by wilful men who were used to blundering their way round situations and expecting her to pull them out

of the hole they fell into. "Go and see Mum, she knows what to say,"

The next day after solving some crisis or other, she went into the betting shop where she was "top dog" and she would shout at the useless tossers to get

their brains into gear, before settling into the tiny cramped office where she sorted out the takings for the previous day. .

All her life, she'd been used to the Charlie type of macho bullshit declaring his love and before him, a string of boyfriends in her teens. Somehow, she'd

attracted the bastards.

But it ain't me, babe

No, no, no, it ain't me babe

It ain't me you're looking for, babe.

In a calmer moment, that very first time she had gone to the pub with Karen floated back into her mind and the mental image of when she looked into Karen's

clear blue eyes. Two of a kind they were. Yvonne had said, "You're all right" that to a casual observer would have meant nothing but to Karen, was the

highest form of praise. In her laconic way, she and Karen had exchanged confidences as to who was the worst mother and Karen told her straight advice about

Ritchie. She remembered that day well as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows sideways on Karen's long blond hair. There was an air of worldliness

and assurance and battered strength in the lines on her face, in her straightforward stare into the wide world. She breathed more evenly, her neck muscles

relaxed and the feeling of imprisonment twice over started to lift. All her cares were lifted off her shoulders and thinking of Karen eased her mind and

made her feel free and relaxed- even though she was in prison. There was something almost flirtatious the way Karen had said "Does that mean I get another

date with you?" She had half registered it but she had let that moment go and had been carried on by the rush of events. She hadn't thought about it till

now but she knew that she had gone back and recovered that first false step There wasn't anyone she'd met in her life that had had that strength like Karen,

nor something else that she couldn't put her finger on but thinking of her made her feel good for the first time in weeks.

Scene 2

Karen grabbed a load of files which slithered through her hands and impatiently stuffed them into her briefcase which was straining at the seams and her

handbag was slung over her shoulders and, with a force of will, she eased her way through the narrow corridors, through the rows of gates and out to her

green sports car. She used the last of her strength to will herself to drive home and to collapse into a sofa with a stiff glass of vodka with her bags

round her. She looked at them ruefully. A woman's mind can be gauged by what was in her bags and, right now, they were full of things to do that she hadn't

had time to get round to sorting out. The pressure was grinding on her, she reflected, and images of those pressures were suspended before her eyes, the

scheming cold faced Grayling and the glaring vindictive eyes of Fenner. She'd had the attitude that if she kept plugging away, day in day out, sooner or

later sheer survival instincts and experience of the Larkhall snakepit would win through. That was the way she'd always coped, by sheer stubborn energy.

Karen looked with some distaste at the bundle of files she'd brought home, some being colourless budgets but some files concerned people's lives. She vowed

she'd never forget this, even if by some miracle she were to suddenly become MP Inspector of Prisons. In her front room, the glare from the overhead lampshades

streamed down or so it appeared. She'd turn them down if she felt less tired but she hadn't the energy as she settled into a comfortable ball of relaxation....

...from nowhere, the radio voice was recounting her a story in an old fashioned BBC accent and the words in tight precision settled in her dazed mind.."From

that moment Rubashov's recollection of the hearing was rather was a gap of uncertain length in his memory. Later on, it seemed to him that he

had fallen asleep and he even remembered a strangely pleasant dream. It must have lasted only a few seconds . a loose, timeless sequence of luminous landscapes,

with the familiar poplars which had lined the drive of his father's estate, and a special kind of white cloud which, as a boy he had once seen over them..."

Karen shook her head and her mind cleared. Mysteriously, the voice had turned off. She meditated dreamily over the vision that she'd been told of and wondered

when was the last time she'd looked at the weather outside. That was something in the corner of her vision flashing past as she drove to work or out way

there in the distance beyond the prison walls, beyond the windows of the Wing Governor's office.

She splashed cold water on her face to wake up a bit, made herself a cup of strong coffee and attacked her work with one last spurt of effort to get that

done so she could relax and turn off from the world. It was only a while later that her aching shoulders and back were telling her that she'd done her

whack and, wearily, she laid her self imposed burden aside.

Propping herself on the settee, she put on the TV, anything light and undemanding and no drama. She'd had enough at work having seen the dismissal of Colin,

a feeble ally in the building. He, was scared to hell at the thought of crossing Fenner and was a broken twig. Apart from that, there was Sylvia but her

limits were of that intelligence which came down to her to provide? At moments like that, when the dark of the night surrounded the solitary light she

herself provided, she wanted the support of someone who would be there for when she gets home at night, She'd crossed Grayling and Fenner bigtime when

she'd put a spoke in Lynford Securities bid and their selfish dreams of scavenging on the carcass of what would be left of Larkhall prison. Only the knives

are out for her.

Once again the voice of the BBC on a tone that spoke of order and proprieties, including straight dealing, intruded on her thoughts.."' besides,' Gletkin

continued there is a certain type of accused who confess under pressure but recant at the public trial. You belong to that tenacious kind..." But on the

way back along the corridor, walking behind the giant, with short tired steps, it was not this perspective, which occupied Rubashov, but the sentence 'you

belong to that tenacious kind.' Against his will, this sentence filled him with a pleasant self satisfaction....."

Karen smiled as the BBC voice trailed off and the adverts on TV switched on. Nice to hear an anonymous voice that didn't know her say some nice words about

her. Her half-open eyes focussed with an effort on the clock on the mantelpiece. Half past nine. Early for her but she was done in. She ought to go to

sleep.

Scene 3

Grayling, too, wasn't finding his evening the rest from work that he expected. Tony was out working at the club and so he thought that he could settle down

to the freedom of an evening on his own. Despite all his flings, he was used to 'his own space' an expression he'd picked up casually from feminist career

women on courses he'd been on. Only Grayling's take on this was that anyone and anything that demanded his time unselfishly was an intrusion to be brushed

on one side. Even Tony, much as he was in love with him that he thought he was, had a tendency to crowd him. His body language spoke subtly of 'keep your

distance.' If people got too close, they might have a claim on him and that would cramp his style. Recently though, he'd had a bit of a change of heart.

Tony was head over heels about being a father and if the boy wants that, then he ought to feel the same. He does, doesn't he? All Di's got to do is to produce

the child and he suppose he ought to find some manual about bringing up children, how else does something as tricky as that sort of thing get done? Isn't

that a shop somewhere round town called "Mothercare"? He supposed that he ought to have a casual wander round there like any other proud father to be or

possibly get Di to do it instead.

Karen's face swam, uninvited and unwanted, into his thoughts. Those blue eyes beneath that fringe seemed to drill into him and that slight twist of the

mouth told him that she knew what he was up to. He wasn't out for saving the world, let those humourless prigs fight for all the freedoms going and he'll

participate if it suited his purposes. Besides, the latest management journal he'd got positively encouraged "Equality and Diversity" and he'd do just

that...as long as it was to his advantage.

But Karen was getting to be big trouble. She'd got this campaigning zeal about the prisoners when there wasn't anything obviously in it for her. Everyone

around had the strings that could pull that made him dance to his tune and were puppets jiggling under his control. Somehow he could sense them. Better

change that to include 'her' as well as 'him' These days you have to be gender sensitive and also mindful of equal treatment regardless of sexual orientation.

That was what he was known for. But Karen Betts was different, She hadn't got the sort of desires he could mould to his will. Somehow, he didn't understand

that.

"Oh the shadows of doubt are in many a mind.

Looking for an answer they're never going to find

But they'd better decide 'cause they're running out of time.

'Cause these are the days of decision."

Fenner's mouth contorted at the image of Karen with her defiant blue eyes laughing at him and he threw his glass of scotch at the wall in a drunken rage.

That bitch is standing in his way and that is the one thing he won't forgive her for.

It all goes back a long way but he remembered the day like it was yesterday when he saw Eric Bostock climb out of his shining new Porsche in the car park.

At last saw a boss he could respect, who was as hard as nails and wouldn't go soft like Stubberfield and Grayling, a man's man, one of the lads. It meant

curtains for some of the others but so long as he was all right and he was Wing Governor, he was all right. Couldn't understand what all the others were

whingeing on about though. You've got to look after Number One, noone else would. If it was a case of a spot of brown nosing, he'd be there first before

the others, pushing anyone aside for first place. Life was hard, always was and you had to keep in line, watch your back and keep schtum if things got

too dangerous.

"I've seen your heads hiding 'neath the blankets of fear

When the paths they are plain and the choices are clear,

But with each passing day, boys, the cost is more dear

For these are the days of decision."

There were many grudges he held against Betts but a lot of it went back to that privatisation deal going pear shaped. He would never forgive Betts for that.

Scene 4

Karen could remember it as clear as yesterday.

"We have six months. If we fail, they throw us to the wolves." Grayling's words burst through the shelter of the cosy old-fashioned POA culture forever

and left the PO's naked and frightened and exposed to the elements. They read in the union magazine that privatisations were starting to happen but never

dreamed that it could happen to them.

She could remember seeing Sylvia's face gaping round in astonishment like a surprised goldfish and could sense the fear rippling round the POs at the meeting.

She looked at Sylvia with concealed contempt. Surely the old dinosaur could remember smarming her way up to Grayling when she willingly took on the privatisation

of the canteen, oh yes and knifing her in the back as well. She is the POA rep, for God's sake. Surely even Sylvia could see that if a part of Larkhall

were privatised, then the whole of it would be swallowed up. So she understands 'the financial imperative', does she? Well if she can be bought and sold

like a commodity, like the 'past the sell by' date crisps that her shady dealings inflicted on the prisoners, now she knows how it feels, Karen thought

grimly. She clasped her notepad dutifully to herself in all appearance, Grayling's loyal subordinate.

"Privatisation" Sylvia burst out at last but stuck for further words, as is her wont.

"Locking people up for profit." Di said in a worried tone." Can't be right, can it?"

Di was taken aback by this one. She had been in the prison service 8 years and working for the state seemed an unalterable part of life. She'd first worked

as an inexperienced casual in the local Job Centre pretending to the shuffling queue of humanity that she knew what she was doing in handing out advice.

"Di, you're doing a good job," her boss said, only knowing that she had a pleasant manner even though she damn well knew that she was floundering. She'd

had a dust up on the counter with one of the more aggressive claimants on one of her 'off' days and burst into tears. Thank heaven the advert for the Prison

service came into her hands one day and she'd grabbed at it. Not much pay but a pension at the end of it and the comfort of job security. She'd seen every

day the other side of the counter and didn't ever want to end up there. The POA would help take care of her also. That was why the announcement triggered

such an attack of primal fear in her that she could be out on her ear. She thought she hadn't shown too much of her feelings.

"It will be wages and conditions next, that won't be right. 'Cos it will be curtains for the union." Karen remembered Sylvia's slow brain at last getting

the message. An ironic twist in her mind tried to imagine Sylvia as a Joan of Arc figure, encased in armour, wielding a sword, bidding her trusty steed

to lead the charge against the privatising enemy hordes but failed dismally. Karen suppressed a snigger at that crazily irreverent thought.

"We can whinge on or we prove ourselves. I'm telling you guys, G wing is the make or break now." Grayling retorted, his eyes alive and his body mannerisms

appearing to give heart and hope to the bewildered and disorientated POs.

"Well said." Karen could remember saying to Grayling as they strolled along the corridors. Yes, she'd really said this. She'd been impressed by his positive

manner in those distant days. She'd really meant it as she'd never been one for wringing your hands in despair and her time managing the wing had taught

her that someone had to take charge of even a hopeless situation and find solutions.

"I hope you're not going to regret taking this job back but it's not just my neck. They're going to want a clean sweep." Grayling stared meaningfully back

at her. She'd thought that he was one ahead of her. He'd been at conferences and had seen the writing on the wall. She didn't exactly trust Grayling as

a slippery character but she hadn't been prepared for the sort of devious self serving she knew now he had always been capable of.

"Trust yourself

Trust yourself to do the things that only you know best

Trust yourself

Trust yourself to do what's right and not be second guessed

Don't trust me to show you the truth

When the truth may only be ashes and rust

If you want somebody you can trust, trust yourself."

Yes that was the night she'd ducked out of Di's hen night to see Ritchie and ended up being embroiled with him and, unknown to her, Snowball. What had she

seen in Ritchie who was good looking, a good shag with a stranger who didn't know her past with Jim Fenner and everything. He wasn't part of the incestuous

Larkhall prison culture where everyone knew everyone's private business sooner or later, he wasn't compensating around her like Mark did or throwing his

association in her face which only made her feel worse about being raped by Jim Fenner. In some crazy way she felt that she had deserved everything and

she had a gut feeling that carrying on with Mark was doing her no good. If she gave Mark up, perhaps he'd find someone less damaged or complicated, in

a way she was doing him a favour. She started out with a clean slate with Ritchie even as he took her roughly on that bed. The fact that he was anonymous

was in a strange way an advantage. How she'd smiled when that "wanna screw" text message popped up on her mobile and gave her a better choice than line

dancing with Sylvia and Di. In any case, she reflected as she lay in bed with a handsome young stud wrapped round her. He knew how good-looking he is,

you could tell that, but it gave her self-esteem a boost when she needed it that a younger man who could have his pick of women should make a deliberate

play for her.

Karen's mind hazily focussed in from those days up to the present. So the not together Karen of those days had to be the superhuman Karen of today when

she knew she wasn't infallible, when the dice were loaded against her. It took her a long time to trust someone else again as she eventually came to do

but only when she could fully trust herself first. All this kicked in at a time when she needed all the strength she could get.

Scene 5

Yvonne opened her eyes on yet another day in Larkhall. It seemed as if she would be in this place forever so much that the daily routine had been ground

into her mind. At the same hour, regular as clockwork, came the rattling keys and Bodybag's stentorian bellow at her and the "let's be having you call"

and the crackly voice on the tannoy announcing that it was time for work duties, arts classes, stuffing envelopes, etc and everyone trooped to their appointed

places. If she had a bleeding sound system that had that lousy quality, she'd ask the salesman if he was a bleeding comedian and, no, she wasn't laughing

and neither would he very soon. The same screws with the same po faces and the same chips on their shoulders, all working their jobsworth routines week

in, week out till they trooped off to the Sad Old Screws old people's home in the sky...like Bodybag's Bobby who she'd seen at their wedding anniversary.

Nothing will ever change that way apart from the odd half way decent screw and even then, her defences were still well and truly up. An enemy is an enemy,

guilty as charged unless they work their bollocks off to prove their innocence.

It had got to the point that her past existence on the other side of the ugly forbidding stone walls was a perfumed unreality, where everything that she

wanted arrived with a click of her fingers, including the mob that would 'lean on' anyone in her way. Anyone that crossed her and her family were moved

out of the way, alive, half-alive or dead. The Atkins had a reputation to maintain. Mind you, there was no front about it, no poncing around like TV villains.

This was the real thing.

She had to get used to the fact that any 'muscle' she had now depended on the tone of command in her voice, her ability to summon up outright fear in the

bitch that she crossed, yes even that bastard Fenner knew now not to overstep his mark, least if he didn't want his bleeding toes chopped off. Most of

all, she had to get used to the treacherous quicksand of Larkhall life that could swallow you up. You got to know who your friends were. The biggest change

she got used to that amongst the rest of 'us cons' were the more defenceless younger women that some of the bastard screws and the likes of that bitch

Dockley would pick on. Deprived of her maternal outlet, Denny most of all and Shaz and Charlotte Middleton received the overflowing 'tough love' mothering

that came second nature to her. No bastard Charlie to sneer at her for going 'soft', he was ten feet under, feeding the bleeding worms. She'd as like tell

Denny when she was talking bollocks, but always with a lurking tone of tenderness in her voice. Denny knew anyway, she wasn't that daft, Yvonne smiled

though she was a bit bleeding slow when she got Denny to "crack on" to that razorhead, Al. She could still see before her that puzzled uncomprehending

expression on her face and remember it with affection.

"The chair's hard

Your voice is hard

The money's hard

The living's hard

Give me something that's not hard, come on, come on

Give me something that's not hard, come on, come on

Give me something that's not hard, come on, come on"

Give me, give me"

Right now, she was worried as shit about Denny. Since Shaz got killed in the fire, Denny was in pieces over it. What the Julies told her and their worried

expressions said everything to her. She'd never admit it to anyone, she's tough bitch Yvonne, but she was stretched to the limit to persuade Denny not

to top the bitch with Fenner's 'blind eye' not looking on. The one bleeding time she Fenner and Denny feel the same about anyone, that has to be some kind

of sick joke.

No one knew behind her poker face, the effort it took not to rip that smug bitches head off her shoulders like Denny wanted to do, like she'd had a try

right after the fire, like even the Julies, as happy go lucky as you could get, were half way wanting to do. And no wonder, they'd been nearly burnt alive.

She was getting older and more tired. She couldn't keep up the hard act all the time, least of all to herself.

She'd been trained by her Dad not to show emotion. Dad was a poker player and when she was little, she, Mum and Dad used to play on a Sunday afternoon before

Sunday afternoon telly. She was the apple of his eye, she'd go far that girl would, so he said. She could remember the rain pouring down on a Summer's

day and she'd sit in the old fashioned comfy chair with her elbows resting on the dining room table with the slightly creased, patterned cards spread like

a fan.

"Don't give your feelings away," he'd said to her "so you get the drop on the person you're playing against." Dead ruthless he was and she'd got a wallop

once when she'd called out that it wasn't fair and she'd been sent to bed early. He meant it to, none of your soft parents you get these days that let

the kids rule the house. And it worked, outside the game of poker, as she grew up. That's why she clicked with Charlie, first time she'd seen him on the

dance floor.

But when she woke up after seeing Ritchie's big brown eyes and felt his little finger clasp onto he larger finger, she felt that rush of that one emotion

that, in her world, was allowed. Nothing wrong with being a good mother, Yvonne's one of the best, the neighbours said as she pushed Lauren up the street

in her pram, holding Ritchie in his little gloved hand...the same Ritchie who, smiling faced, cheated her out of 50 grand.

She'd got her spies out, Lauren on the outside and Babs, playing deaf and hanging around near that evil tart Snowball. Sooner or later, she'll find out

what her bastard son and that evil tart are up to and then they'll both get their comeuppance.

Right now she'd got her confident entrance to make on the wing for breakfast. Time to slip on the suit of armour, she thought, as the cell door opened onto

another day in sunny Larkhall.

Scene 6

It all started for Karen with a lump of cold steel wedged into her back and the cold voice of Snowball speaking venomously into her ear. "Found the missing

gun, miss. Stay cool. I'm a civilian worker. You're giving me a lift to the station."

Karen's mind froze at the unreality of it for a second. She had strolled along to the side gate, walking past Snowball on a sunny afternoon, after supervising

the inmates paying their last respects to Shaz. Like lightning, a memory of her reporting that "So is the search for the missing firearm. It hasn't been

found. The DST has turned over the whole prison inside out for the past three weeks. Wherever it is, it isn't this side of the prison walls." Yes she'd

told the prison Officers that in her rapid confident tone. It shook her that something that she had faith turned out not to be the case.

"No way, Merriman." Karen's anger flashed.

"Six bullets in this gun. If I have to use them on you, I'll have to use them all. Now move it."

This was for real and she went into mental overdrive. She had to play along with this mad bitch. She means this one or else she's doing her Bonnie and Clyde

overacting routine or both. No mock heroics now, better see if the evil bitch makes a slip up later on.

"Remember I'm an actress. If you don't play this straight, you'll get it." Snowball's cold evil voice conveyed every willingness to use the weapon at the

first chance.

"You got that gun because of me. I'm not going to risk anyone's life." Karen fired back but these fine moral distinctions were lost on Snowball.

Karen walked along a tightrope path where others came close to them yet were not part of her life right then, like the POs struggling with a new prisoner.

"Sorry Miss Betts" one of them said to Karen's unseeing eyes.

Snowball was drunk on the feeling of power that flowed through her that one rod loaded with six bullets could make the high and mighty Miss Betts dance

to her tune. She would be the one giving orders now but she had to make it look convincing in the last few yards through the iron gates to freedom. Her

Ritchie would be proud of her, that's what he wanted, a strong woman to tell him what to do. Her mouth twisted in anger. She had hoped to see Betts looking

scared. That would have given her a real kick out of the situation as she had dreamed all those dark days locked up in segregation. Revenge is sweet, that's

what all the movies say, but she's not getting it right now and that fanned the flames of her hatred for Karen.

Karen walked through to the gatehouse and, according to script, she asked John on the gate to let her out. Because Miss Betts, the Wing Governor was walking

out with a blond haired stylishly dressed woman, he supposed it was all right. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for identification but it must be

all right as Miss Betts was with her. Last time he stuck to the letter of the book, Mr Stubberfield chewed his ear of for being 'Jobsworth of the year.'

when he was bringing his wife in. He hadn't forgotten that incident even though it was months back. Best play safe, he thought.

"Yours is that nice little sporty number," Snowball asked, her feelings lighter now on the other side of the gates and her bottled up anger was raised another

notch at Karen's retort that "Ritchie should recognise it. Harry, gate please." with a faint access of the authority she did not feel as she was definitely

not calling the shots right now.

As Karen's car turned onto the open road, a battered looking Ford Fiesta tagged on behind Karen's car. Rob, the driver smiled to his mate, Dave at the sight

of the car. In the stream of traffic, this one would be dead easy to tail as long as the driver didn't put her foot down too hard on the accelerator, Not

like, spot the one red Fiesta out of seven in a line. He'd got his instructions from Miss Atkins, follow that car and the first chance that it stops and

it is quiet, you know what to do. Don't mess this one up, the boss said with razor sharp eyes and a hard edged voice. Chip off the old block, especially

if all the rumours are true about the Pizza Delivery Service for Charlie. All the lads had heard the rumour though noone talked openly of it.

While keeping her revolver pointed menacingly at the side of Karen's head, Snowball punched the buttons on the mobile she was holding and, for the first

time, Karen saw a genuine dazzling white smile on her face.

"Rich, ten minutes, babes. I've got your old shag to give me a lift.," she said, digging in the insult for all she was worth. Karen was expressionless.

Wondering what she meant or didn't mean to Ritchie hardly mattered when she was playing for her life.

Once out in the countryside, Karen played what cards she had without much real hope of Snowball changing her mind, not this cheap failed B movie actress.

"You'll just pile more years on your sentence," she had urged patiently.

"Actually, I do have a good reason to waste a bullet on you, don't I." Snowball's mouth curled with vicious anger. This really is a revenge trip, Karen

thought, and I'm in a real fix.

Directed by Snowball to swing off the road onto a rough field, Karen saw a white car in the distance. Totally numb of feeling, Karen saw the slim built

handsome shape she had last seen in a hotel room begging her to stay off work and, smilingly, Karen advised him that she had a boss to account to. He wasn't

even her shag, just that tart's boyfriend who was using her. Snowball grabbed the keys and flung herself into the arms of Ritchie who studiously ignored

Karen as if she didn't exist. For the moment, the attention was off her. In the rear view mirror, Karen could see it all but was numb to it all, nothing

mattered right now but survival. In the corner of her mirror, her eyes picked out a distant shape of a car, a faint gleam of hope.

"There's the pair of them," Dave yelled, "get some speed on and catch the bastards."

Rob sighed. Dave was fine for muscle and breaking bones but Lauren Atkins put him in charge as he had the brains. There was time yet and to go slowly wouldn't

put the wind up them and the two cars parked next to each other were fairly close.

"No, you silly bastard. We go in slowly- this dump could be a regular lover's lane, pity you haven't got a blond wig."....."Didn't mean that, you stupid

berk, just joking." He laughed at Dave's known discomfort at anything slightly camp.

Snowball broke off and yanked the car door open while Ritchie looked on with a flicker of fear for Karen as he had an inkling of what Snowball had in mind.

He feared these periodic moods of madness that overtook Snowball to which he was a spectator, feebly arguing. All were oblivious to the car pulling up

closer.

"OK, out, bitch" Snowball sneered, manhandling Karen and knocking her to the ground. Karen shouted 'Jesus' at her and looked down the length of the revolver

pointing straight at her.

"It's her fault this happened to me," Snowball snarled, patting that lock of fair hair that covered that scar on that image of perfection. "You hadn't stopped

me getting free last time."

"We're free now, babe, let's go." Ritchie with a flicker of concern for the woman he's slept with, only shag, but this was going too far.

"No Ritchie." Snowball's voice cut decisively over Ritchie's "I want her to know what it's like on death row. I want you on your knees, begging me for a

pardon." Snowball cocked the gun while Karen's mind temporarily froze. There were no words to describe what she felt.

"I see my light come shining

From the west and down to the East

Any day now, anyway now

I shall be released."

"OK Merriman, freeze." came the loud hailer voice to Snowball and Ritchie's shocked ears, seeing a man in combat position ready to fire.

No one gets in the way of my plans, if they do that, they die, burned the last conscious thought while Snowball hadn't crossed over the divide where she

might meet the God she worshipped in her twisted way.

"No Snowball.." started Ritchie but two sharp cracks split the still air. The shape of Snowball spun round and dropped itself like a rag doll on the rough

ground close to Karen's feet. The pistol flew out of Snowball's limp fingers, her clutch on life now brutally severed.

With a sideways lunge, Karen threw herself in the direction of the gun in one mad moment of energy born of the release from death but Ritchie got there

first.

"No Karen." Ritchie called out, starting to raise the pistol in the direction of the two hit men. Was it a fraction of a feeling of mercy to Karen or an

attempt to shoot his way out, the thought flashed across Karen's mind.

In that flash instant, Ritchie recognised one of the men as Yvonne's oldest members of the mob who had showed him how to load a pistol as a kid, the feel

of the bullets as they were put into the magazine when..crack..the pistol fired at him.

A spear of fire lanced into his kneecap where the bullet entered and while his gun tilted to face Rob, he thought, shit, he's going to take me out even

as he's dying, after all, he's an Atkins. One more crack and a second bullet entered his shoulder and he toppled over.

"Get the hell into the car, Dave," Rob yelled, we're off. "We're not doing time for Atkins and his bird. The boss has promised to cover for us." Rob pushed

Dave into the passenger seat and the car veered off crazily out onto the open road, wheels skidding leaving silence that echoed all around.

Afterwards Karen blessed her nurses training that came to the rescue. It triggered her like reflex to care for the dead and the living. This is what she

knew, only it was in the antiseptic ward of a hospital, never in an open field. Feelings could catch up with this one afterwards.

One feel of Snowball's pulse, her white face and one bullet straight through the heart alone told Karen that Snowball was now meeting the God whose name

she constantly invoked. Her short and wasted life was over. Yvonne Atkins's son was calling out to her as if she were his mother or nurse.

"Ritchie, Ritchie, come on, stay with me." Karen's urgent voice called out to him, willing him to stay alive. His right leg was twisted badly out of shape.

She feverishly fished out a piece of cloth in the car, anything to staunch the flow of blood from his wounds. In a moment of panic, her thoughts willed

out hope to someone, anyone to come to his help. He might have been nothing more than her shag but he was a human life to be kept alive. All of Karen's

nurse's experience flowed to the surface, unstoppable.

There in the distance, the wail of the siren told her that shortly, she would get her release.

Scene 7

Karen glanced round at her surroundings for a split second. A rough field, criss-crossed with tyre tracks and a few shrubs in the distance and far in the

distance, a distant strip of green, the roadside hedge a gap in which they had entered what seemed like a long time ago.

"Where is that damned police car." Karen swore fighting down that sneaking fear that the police car was screeching its way to another emergency rather than

hers.

Karen was painfully aware that instead of the nurses close to hand and all the medical backup of the busy city hospital that she'd worked at was just herself

pinned down in an open field, miles from anywhere and the knowledge that she dredged from her memory when she was Nurse Betts.

She stared down at the white-faced man who she held in her arms. Whether in that sliver of consciousness left to him, she was either friend, traitor, enemy

or lover did not matter to him or her. He lay there to be nursed while all that time, his lifeblood leaked away into his clothing and into the solid earth.

Second after second ticked its infuriatingly casual unconcerned way, oblivious of any life event. The other side of the hedge, the sight was cut off to

the casual motorist who sped his bored way through featureless countryside, conscious of eating up the miles and how many more miles to go. All consciousness

of the outside world in that car was blotted out by the loud music of the car in tune with the driving car but never the countryside in which the car sped.

One bit of country was just like the rest. He'd got to get some speed up, hadn't he, or he'd be late.

"Come on Ritchie. You'll make it." She urged him to will to stay alive. He must not give up on her now than any other patient she had nursed. She was the

nurse, all her training having jumped to the foreground.

Suddenly, Ritchie turned white in the face and went into spasm. Her worst fears were being realised. He was going into heart failure.

In automatic habit, she pressed her lips to his and forced air into his mouth once and pressed hard with a practised hand once, twice, three times, four

times and five times, short sharp pushes to force his lungs to keep him breathing and for his blood to pump round his bloodstream. Then again and again

as she settled into a routine born of desperation, not feeling the aches and pains in her own body from the unaccustomed exercise. At the bottom of her

mind was that he would live, at this minute now, from second to second. First her life she had gambled from a position of seeming weakness, now Ritchie's.

"Who will save your soul when it comes to the flower

Who will save your soul after all the lies that you told, boy

Who will save your soul if you won't save your own?"

Down the country lane, the police sergeant steered the white Panda car with sirens wailing their way to any car driver to move out of their way. It must

be serious, the way Area Control had radioed through that there had been a shooting and two people, possibly wounded or dead. They had given him a good

fix on the incident which helped in this featureless countryside. Out near the junction of the A234 out of Larkhall near to where it crosses the B165.

The policeman was a local lad who knew the countryside like the back of his hand. When he had asked Area who the informant was, they were vague as it was

a mystery informant who had abruptly hung up.

Karen drove herself into a desperate routine and she seemed to be holding his own. Something in Ritchie held him in there, either his will to live or her

nursing or both. She was getting tired but she had to keep going. That was dinned into her when she was a young girl by nursing sisters passing on the

nursing tradition to yet another generation.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grayling sat gloomily in his room, remote, unapproachable. His arms were resting on his desk and wrists bent so that he rested his head on his hands. He

couldn't believe that sudden stroke of bad luck which threatened to upset his career plans. A long time ago, he sensed he was superior than his peers in

the one skill that mattered to him, that of getting on. His sincere smile and willingness to cultivate those friendships that would be useful in furthering

his career helped. Also his fluent ability to deny, cover his back and make plausible explanations. Now all this was threatened by those cretins on the

gate. He would not have the finger pointed at him by area not if he could avoid it, not when the privatisation plan offered him such a glittering prize.

He waited, frozen to the spot for news of the incident and for Area to react to the matter, fearful of what he might hear.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two policemen rushed out of the car and took in the scene straight away. One female, young and attractive was clearly dead and a young man, still alive,

laid out on the far and a fair haired woman was bent over him, giving him what looked like the kiss of life. Whatever shootings had taken place, she clearly

was not the guilty party or else she'd not be hanging around and would have made off in that green sports car which he'd guessed was hers.

He fished his mobile out of his pocket.

"Tango two to control. Ambulance required as soon as possible."

He went over to the woman to make sure she heard. She was clearly in charge of the situation and was doing the best she could. Rather than crowd her, he

noted down a few particulars for a full statement later on when things were clearer.

Karen sensed, rather than saw the presence of the two policemen and, even though they weren't able to practically help, the mere presence of two people

who had the sense to slot into the situation, made her less frantic. Deliberately in the same repetitive rhythm, she carried on, breathe, press five times,

breathe, press five times. She could feel his pulse, very faint and something told her she had an even chance, now for Ritchie's life as well as hers.

The ambulance screeched its way at top speed, the driver knowing the fine line between death and a human snatched from the grave and pulled in close besides

the parked cars. One of the ambulance men took over from Karen who sank back to the ground, exhausted by her hard work. She never knew how done in she

was until she had finished. In no time at all, the repeated punches of the defibrillator worked by a man more confident and sure of his touch than Dr No

No, had pulled Ritchie back from the grave. The white shape spun round in an arc and sped away across the field, turned the corner and disappeared down

the lane.

The policeman had to start to piece together what had happened and after a decent pause, offered Karen a cigarette. Gratefully, she drew in the nicotine

and the exhalation of her breath drove away the peak of the tensions of the day. She was as ready as she'd ever be to start to answer questions.

"Can you give me your name and address. You'll need to come down to the station to make a statement but whenever you're ready. Don't worry," the policeman

added seeing Karen glancing at her car. "We'll make arrangements for your car to be fetched"

"I'm Karen Betts, Nurse at the City....." began Karen in automatic thinking mode which for once was working askew. "No I'm not, I'm Wing Governor at Larkhall

Prison. I ought to be back there..."

The policeman kindly squelched that idea. No matter how tough she appeared to be, she was in the hands of the police and he would have control over her

fate right now, not even the Inspector of prisons. She was in gentler hands than the police were used to extending.

Karen slumped in the passenger seat of the nice comfortable car and let someone do the driving and temporarily take control of her destiny.

Scene 8

It was late on in the day that Grayling took one of the first phone calls that made him jump.

"Grayling here," spoke the business voice.

"We've got your Wing Governor at the police station, helping us out with out enquiries with a police matter..."

An almost imperceptible movement of Grayling's face brought dawning hope that that trouble maker Betts was in some kind of trouble of her own when the voice

went on to explain.

"......I mean, she's alive and well and in one piece. She's assisting with a statement on the fate of one of your prisoners. We haven't got the full story

but it looks like Karen Betts' car was tailed and Tracy Pilkington was killed in a shootout. A man called Ritchie Atkins was wounded but Miss Betts looked

after him till the ambulance. She wanted you to be told first thing that everything is all right. It was touch and go with the man. Lucky that you've got

a Wing Governor who is a good nurse. Quite the hero of the hour." The policeman meant well in praising a senior officer of Larkhall that ought to enable

Grayling to bask in her reflected glory.

"Quite," Grayling said shortly, his lips compressed together. "Tell Miss Betts that she can come back to Larkhall whenever she is ready and Miss Pilkington's

unfortunate death will be relayed to her friends. Anyway I'll let you get on with your business. No doubt you are busy people."

Grayling went back to brooding on his future. You had to keep your ears open in this game. A few years ago there was a change of government and that set

the cat among the pigeons. For years, hard faced area men had been going on about a "short sharp shock" at meetings which he'd sat in on. They gave this

aura of laying down the law and, if they keep up the pressure, the prison population would be cowed into shape. That was the message that the Governors

would pass down the line. He heard one dissenting voice timidly reason that perhaps this might have something to do with the prison riots but he was shouted

down from all sides. Life was easy as he'd grown up in that 'man's man' culture which he'd blended in to as best he could. He was a good actor and the

lines were easy to learn. At prison, he was as straight as anyone.

Come the election in 1997 and, overnight, he saw these same people turn somersault, see the light and suddenly as if was a revelation, that they realised

that patient's needs were to be met, that there should be investment in prison education and that by treating prisoners like human beings, the powder keg

with the burning fuse ready to blow would be defused. Grayling didn't know where to put himself at the first Area meeting so he kept quiet.

This was the one and only time he met Helen Stewart. He remembered her very well. Amongst the management uniform of smart blue suit (they all coincidentally

chose the same colour) she stood out in her low cut top, black leather jacket, sparkling eyes and short bobbed hair flopping round her face. Her outstretched

firm handshake gripped his limp, unenthusiastic hand and his cold withdrawn manner was immediately detected by Helen's open intuitive mind behind the broad

smile. She was clearly happy that area "clearly liked my politics" whereas to his cynical mind, they were merely wearing the mask of the moment and would

change masks without thinking. After all, that was how they got on.

It was towards the end of his stay at his previous prison that he sensed the winds were changing again. He'd been taken on one side and that New Labour

was now geared up to trampling on the unions, the decision was made, and at the same time, privatisation was the new flavour of the month.

"No, not the old style Conservative 'privatise your grandmothers silver collection,' only where it makes practical common sense. You do understand, old

boy, that where a case can be made for a prison to remain in the Public sector, the Minister would not dream of seeing it flogged off on the cheap."

And the inscrutable Mandarin gave a crooked smile and Grayling knew that he had a short time to learn his new lines, go to the right conferences, read some

new books to learn the buzzwords of the future. After all, he was an ideas man, not for checking over budgets and writing annual reports, much though the

latter activity gave him full scope for making or marring a man or woman's career.

And when he got the call from area that Helen Stewart had resigned from Larkhall at short notice, he knew that he was on his way if he could deliver his

Master's message. It meant climbing a slippery perilous ladder but he knew he had no compunction at kicking off the ladder the man or woman below him if

needed.

On his very first day at Larkhall, he instantly pigeon holed Karen Betts as another of these reformers like Helen Stewart and hated her straightaway.

"One who sings with his voice on fire

Gargles in the rat race choir

Bent out of shape by society's pliers

Cares not to come up any higher

But rather gets you down in the hole

That he's in."

Karen Betts strode purposefully up the metal staircase to the 3s, turned hard right and facing Yvonne's cell, wrenched the cell door back on its hinges.

To Yvonne's eyes, the Karen who was always neatly dressed in her suit was dishevelled, with coat unbuttoned and flying back. There was real anger in her

eyes.

"I don't know what you had planned, Yvonne. Watching Merriman escape. She stuck that bloody gun in my back and made me drive her to Ritchie. He got shot."

Karen finished on a hard accusing note.

Yvonne's face never gave away the horror and fear of what more bad news she feared would come.

"He's not dead, is he."

"He'll live." Karen said flatly. "A bullet in the shoulder which hasn't done him any harm but his knee's smashed. He'll be in hospital for awhile. Too early

to say how long. Merriman's dead."

"I hope that bitch is rotting in hell, not that bleeding heaven she was banging on about." Yvonne finished in

"This is not the way, Yvonne. No hit man vigilante stuff." Karen stormed. "If you'd put the information in my hands, we'd have pulled her in. None of this

'I can't grass' crap."

"And then what." Yvonne's eyes stared directly into Karen's. "Would she be back on the wing with a slap on the wrist, down the block for a bit, or would

you have got her transferred out. Let's face it, Miss Betts, if you were going to do it, you could have done it after the library blew itself up. My Ritchie

had what was coming to him."

Karen's eyes blazed when she remembered that desperate time she had spent in that field saving his life.

"Miss Betts, I mean Karen, Ritchie was in with Merriman in Shaz dying and five others nearly killed. You believe in British justice. Where I come from,

we punish our own. Don't expect you to understand but thanks for what you've done for Ritchie....and I'm sorry."

From anyone else, Karen would have thought the flat understated words totally inadequate. From Yvonne, with her words, the look in her eyes and that she

sensed Yvonne had never apologised in her life before, least of all to a screw, that meant everything.

With a formal nod, Karen left the room.

Scene 9

Karen made her way downstairs, her thoughts turning over her conversation with Yvonne. She'd stuck to the rules all her life because they were the only

guarantee of any sort of consistency or else everything would be done 'by grace and favour' and if your face happened to fit. More than that, she'd lived

in, breathed in, worked in institutions all her life and knew her way round them. She'd toughened up the hard way, by experience and she could still remember

sensing Helen's vulnerability in her very early days at Larkhall to the sort of pressures which would glance off her. Helen was always too far out of reach

to talk to her properly at the time. Yvonne had given her food for thought.

"Ah, Karen." Grayling's concerned voice greeted her at the bottom of the staircase. He looked as if he was making a special effort to be nice to her in

the soothing words that he uttered. "How are you."

"What doesn't kill us makes us tougher." Karen replied stoically with a slight smile on her face.

"Oh I hope so..." And Grayling turned to go. In afterthought, he stopped in mid motion. "Oh, Area called last night. They dumped my part privatisation model.

Going the whole hog." Grayling announced, clearly annoyed by the look of the expression on his face, that his contacts at Area which he used to talk about

at meetings, had failed to deliver.

Karen's lips tightened. So Area will throw us to the wolves after all. When Grayling came back off sick leave, Di in her usual dippy, arm clutching way

of 'my man', reassured everyone that 'Area would privatise Larkhall over his dead body.' So where was the bolt of lightning from above to strike him down?

"Oh, shit." she spontaneously responded.

"Yeah, the formal offer is going to Lynford Securities. They're sending in an advance team at the end of the week to pave the way." Grayling finished off.

So I suppose the guy will be dressed in Superman in red cape and tights and will show us lesser mortals how to solve the problems of Larkhall in one easy

lesson, Karen thought. And just how much practical experience will they have?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grayling walked back to his room and a slow grin split his face. All his careful manoeuvring had now come to fruition. He had tried the odd small-scale

experiment in Larkhall which had succeeded. The computer which he'd ordered for the "spends" had proved itself once Bodybag's floundering efforts had been

detached from it and a more computer literate younger PO had taken over. All the POs were talking about how good it was that someone had come along and

push Larkhall into the twenty first century. The introduction of the "commercial imperative" into the stocking of the canteen had ruffled a few feathers

but it was only the more stroppy prisoners who were known trouble makers. A bit here and a bit there softened up Larkhall for the grand plan and Grayling

could see what lessons needed to be learnt. It was Area who were a bit nervous of going the whole hog but Grayling had gradually wheedled them round and

smoothed their hesitations.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fenner was on his usual rounds and had seen Karen come back to work. There was a mysterious absence of Merriman on the wing but no one was saying anything.

He knew better than to ask Karen direct, as things were not like the old days when he could smooch her up into believing anything. He knew that there was

something afoot as he saw Karen pacing about downstairs while G wing were about to break off from their dinner break. She broke off and mounted the stairs

where she could look down on everyone.

"Can I have your attention," she called out. "I have to tell you, before rumours start flying about, that there was a shoot out involving Snowball Merriman

and I have to say that she was dead on arrival of her wounds in Larkhall Hospital."

A loud burst of cheering and whooping went up from the crowd, not least from Denny, Al and the 2 Julies who were the most vocal. Babs was known for her

Christian charity but she was not that inflexible that she could not smile. Karen let the cheering go on as she fully expected such a reaction. Out of

the corner of her eye, she saw Yvonne standing at the sidelines, stony faced for reasons she perfectly well understood.

"I know that Snowball Merriman has not been the most popular prison on the block..."

"Yeah, too right, hope she burns in hell." Denny echoes, unconsciously evoking Crystal's favourite expression.

"....but I am asking you all to put the whole business behind us. You are not going to get me to express views on this event, one way or another." Karen

called out, looking full into Yvonne's eyes." There will, of course, be a memorial service for those who want to attend if they want to unless any next

of kin express any requests otherwise." she finished, keeping a straight face.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him as before, into the resorts of businessmen, but went straight on, until they reached a churchyard. Here

then, the wretched man, whose name he had now to learn, lay under the ground. Walled in by houses: overrun by grass and weeds; choked up with too much

burying. A worthy place!

...Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went; and following the finger, read on the neglected name his own name: EBENEZER SCROOGE"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At that, Karen stepped down from the staircase and made her way to the office to start tracing next of kin and the whole formal machinery of mourning. Fenner

heard the news and a slow evil smile spread across his face that he made no attempt to disguise. Just for one moment, his feelings and the prisoners were

identical. It would not last.

Scene 10

Fenner strolled away along the landing on the 2s where he'd watched Karen's announcement and into the Social Club. It had the typical smell of institutionalised

stale beer, dart board in the corner and cheap chairs and formica tables. Like any club, it had the attraction of cut price drinks for the 'lads' top unwind

after a shift. Despite the influx of more female POs, it had made few concessions to passing times.

"Hey, Colin. You're looking under the weather. Been out on the piss last night?" Fenner enquired of the slim ashen-faced younger PO who had bags under the

eyes and was as white as a sheet. Larkhall wasn't exactly the place for looking rugged and tanned but Colin looked as rough as hell. His natural nosiness

for another little snippet of news to feed into his calculating brain was concealed by his appearance of concern in the way that a principal Officer of

long standing would display.

"No, just a rough night." Colin's lantern jawed face responded trying to look positive. "Just going to the loo. Must be something I ate last night. See

you later, Jim."

Fenner queued up at the bar and wondered how long he'd take to come out. He must have a bad case of the shits, the way he hogged the loo every bloody time.

He collected his pint and wandered over to Ken.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yvonne straightened her smart beige leather jacket nervously and looked at herself in her mirror to adjust her make up. On special occasions, this was an

Yvonne Atkins rule, as a confidence boost. It wasn't going to be easy in visiting Ritchie in hospital knowing that it was her efforts that resulted in

his girlfriend being killed and Ritchie badly crippled. It was that underlying guilt complex, her Achilles heel. She had to work hard to remind herself

that he'd come over all love and flowers and scammed her out of £50 grand and tried to fit her up for Snowball's crime. No matter how she tried to reason

herself into feeling that it was a knock for a knock, she knew that her feelings would slither from underneath herself.

"Do you know any more about how he is." Yvonne asked Karen. There was none of her abrasive 'anti screw' edginess as, for one, she was glad it wasn't Fenner

or Di Barker accompanying her. It was good of Karen to trouble herself to go, and being the person Snowball had tried to kill would shut that mouth of

Ritchie from opening too much. Karen being there would even things out a bit.

"It's early days." Karen said casually with the air of someone who was used to prodding at the truth of the vague words of hospital "He's comfortable. The

bullets have been extracted and that's about all they'd say."

They walked to the gate when Karen produced a pair of handcuffs with an apologetic air. "Look, Yvonne, I'm sorry. I'll take them off in hospital." As she

clicked the handcuffs on each wrist.

Yvonne nodded silently. At another time, she'd have made a barbed comment like 'Yeah, like I'm like a normal mum' but not today. Apparently Karen was handcuffing

Yvonne to keep her safe as a prisoner in an outside environment. In reality, Yvonne regarded Karen as a bit of moral protection that she could do with.

Karen walked slightly ahead of Yvonne with that obvious feel of someone used to the ways of the medical world, another closed in institution, and asked

the way of the ward Sister who motioned her to the side ward, third on the left. On a bed, Ritchie was laid out flat with his shoulder heavily bandaged

and his leg suspended slightly above the bed with a mountain of dressings round it. Taking all her courage in her hands, Yvonne crossed the huge gulf to

Ritchie's bed.

"Come to gloat, Mum." Ritchie's opening verbal jab was thrown at her.

"No more than you would have done if you'd got away with that tart Merriman with £50 grand you'd scammed off me and Lauren." Yvonne's voice, though pitched

low, carried more force than Ritchie was expecting. "Though you're a complete bastard Ritchie, you're my son and part of the family."

Karen broke in apologetically, not wishing to intrude on family matters.

"I'll catch a word with the consultant."

"No, Miss Betts, I'd be grateful if you can stay and help keep the peace. One time I want a screw to stick around." Yvonne looked with a slight smile on

her face and Karen, also being a mother, knew the flashpoint signs of family argument.

"Surprised you've come to visit me in hospital, Karen." Ritchie said with a less hostile tone in his voice.

"Yeah well, as wing governor, either I ask one of the Prison Officers to do it and Yvonne Atkins isn't everyone's favourite." Karen said nonchalantly, flicking

her fair sideways as she glanced at Yvonne for her reaction." Or else I do it myself."

An awkward strained conversation trickled between the three of them as Ritchie had broken bridges of communications with all of them. When Ritchie wasn't

rejecting Yvonne with his words, he was consciously giving Yvonne the cold shoulder by looking away from her.

"Mother, you had me but I never had you

I wanted you but you didn't want me

So I got to tell you

Goodbye, goodbye."

"Snowball's dead." Ritchie said accusingly out of nowhere.

"So's Shaz, burnt to death in the fire your murdering tart started...and the Julies. Babs, Roisin, Cassie nearly died as well, oh yes I forgot Al and Buki.

Quite a mass murderer Merriman nearly was."

"Snowball and me were together, till you took her away from me."

"Well, scuse me if I don't go to the funeral, Ritchie." Yvonne sneered "The hymns would choke me." That son of mine is fixated on her, nothing exists outside

their lives.

"You two will have to cool it," Karen said politely. "or I'll have to slip the handcuffs on both of you, that is until the police come."

The combination of Karen's firm stare and slight smile to soften the words worked like the upended bucket of water neatly damping out the steadily growing

bonfire. The conversation stopped dead while Ritchie glared impotently at Yvonne and Karen maintained her impassive silence while the sounds of a busy

hospital provided the background sounds to cover the gap.

The doctor in a white coat saw Yvonne and Karen standing guard over Ritchie's bed and hurried over and Karen duly introduced them.

"Were you the woman who kept Mr Atkins alive until the ambulance came to collect him." the doctor said as he shook Karen by the hand. "I've heard the account

from the ambulance team and wanted to thank you personally for your efforts. We're grateful if a member of the public will give of their time in an emergency

like this but it's not every day that a member of the public turns out to be a brilliant standby nurse in waiting. This is the sort of thing you find depicted

in hospital dramas."

Ritchie's face was a picture so the even Mr Cool could not conceal the fact that "his old shag" had kept him alive. The doctor explained for his benefit

in detail what Karen had done and that it was touch and go in the ambulance but if it weren't for Karen, Ritchie would have infallibly been laid out on

a mortuary slab instead of here on a sunny afternoon, waited on hand by nurses who were there to help him back to health.

Yvonne's mind went back to the day she'd advised him that "if the uniform attracted him, then go and find a nurse" and her mind idly wondered how Ritchie's

days might be spent in future. At the top of her thoughts was the huge wave of gratitude and awesome respect that came over as she looked at Karen Betts

which, up till then, she'd viewed as the woman who turned the key on her cell door.

Scene 11

Grayling scanned through the smartly presented portfolio Eric Bostock had laid out on Grayling's desk and his vision of the future which he had dreamed

of was real before his eyes. This hard faced man in the expensive suit was a man after his own heart, the sort of person he wanted to be if only unaccountable

impulses below his level of consciousness had pulled him from his path.

"This is all very impressive." Grayling concluded, "if only the Public Sector could exercise this sort of imagination. I've tried to install similar initiatives

but the POA is very strong here."

Grayling needed to secure his alibis and this blatant lie served his purpose. In truth, the local POA branch had sleepwalked its way through the tumults

of twenty years of trade union history, oblivious and unseeing. So long as the traditional working practices carried on in the manner of a mediaeval guild

aided and abetted by the fat complacent 'don't rock the boat' form of Stubberfield, Larkhall could slumber on into the twenty second century given half

a chance. Many years ago, Sylvia as a young Prison Officer exchanged her daily level of bile with the young Jim Fenner at the striking miners in the Thatcher

years, and religiously bought the Daily Mail to read in the PO's room as she drank out of her "Charles and Di" coffee mug. For nine months, her daily tirades

against Arthur Scargill and the 'bully boy' miners intimidating ordinary miners who wanted the right to work had filled the air. On her Saturday mornings

in town, she'd seen the collection or riff raff standing on a street corner, jangling collection tins and wearing "Coal Not Dole" yellow badges. Half of

them are probably students or work shy anyway, she sniffed as she walked past them with her head in the air. As her mother used to tell her, you feel safe

under a Conservative government, rules are rules, and Scargill and his lot are breaking them. The only benefit that there was from Sylvia's and Fenner's

right wing outpourings was that the venom directed at one load of troublemakers meant that it kept the heat off the piss takers and troublemakers amongst

the cons. Even with Bodybag, there was only so much venom that she could feel. So Bodybag had slumbered her life away as POA rep, until now.

"Not any more. We don't recognise them." Eric Bostock said with chilling finality

"My staff are happy coming to work. Off sick with stress. Bollocks. You see Lynford Securities can't fail because failure means going bust. So we don't."

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A hundred miles away, in the prison run by Lynford Securities, Stuart Lander felt for the prison gates with a shaky hand. He really wasn't ready to come

back to work, not after having a couple of days off sick with stress. He knew that he'd gone over the maximum days off sick that he was allowed and that

the boss would come heavy on him. Life at home, sweating and shaky wasn't much better. There was a fat wad of letters on his mantelpiece of red reminders

and final reminders but what could you do with a shit wage like Lynfords paid. He'd had one of the more dangerous prisoners kick off at him and he'd lost

it. Perhaps if he'd gone on the course on "Handling Dangerous Situations" which he'd been promised, the situation might never have happened but the course

was put back four months as the budget was tight. Course, his mate argued come the fourth month, the boss would only turn round and say, as you've lasted

so long, you don't really need the course, do you? Mr Bostock would say with those cold eyes that looked inside you and froze your insides.

"Your self cert says you've been suffering from stress." Bostock's deputy launched into the attack when Stuart Lander presented himself to the boss on request,

five minutes into getting into work. "He doesn't look very stressed to me, does he." the remark escaped out of the corner of his mouth to his sidekick

while at the back, an anonymous clerk from Lynford's Head office transcribed the record of interview onto his glossy notebook.

"No, boss, looks fit and healthy to me. And looking at the CCTV tapes over the last week, he looks happy enough to me, doesn't he? The duty rosters show

he's had an easy time of it recently." came the response to the deputy boss and Stuart nerve crumbled.

"Now the rules say that you can have a stress risk assessment. You know that Lynfords value their staff and have firm policies in place but it looks to

me that yours is a border line case, like fifty miles away from the border, don't you think. Now, if you take your self cert back and perhaps you make

a simple adjustment....."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Firm and caring also," Grayling marvelled at the portfolio, examining carefully the policies that laid down the law that disciplinary action would be started

to nip a sickness problem in the bud where there was no apparent justification but managers were encouraged to be proactive in considering any underlying

health problems and in finding solutions giving 'full and fair consideration to the needs of the PO "This will sort out our long term sick problem. And

your pay structure giving the power to Governing Governors to award and withhold pay bonuses." Grayling licked his lips. If he could have all those powers,

all that thirst for control that had been denied him would be satisfied and his dreams would come true.

"We're singing from the same hymn sheet." Grayling spoke; uttering the mantra of control freaks everywhere in Management in the whole civilised western

world. "You 're the man I've been waiting for."

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Karen knew that today was the day that she would meet her future in Lynford Securities. She left her office prepared for the worst. Nevertheless, she knew

she oughtn't to be ready to scratch out the eyes of whatever man or woman would appear in front of her. She ought to be fair, she was telling herself,

and don't kick off straight away.

Sure enough, she saw Grayling do a semi wave of his hand and she turned from her clipboard and extended her hand in friendly fashion.

"This is Lynford Securities chief executive, Eric Bostock." Grayling, one of the double act handled the introductions.

"You drew the short straw." The cold words came out of the skullface wearing the expensive suit.

"I'm sorry." Karen asked to buy time and to be sure she had got the right end of the stick.

"Hardly an advert for the penal system, G Wing." Came the complacent words uttered by someone who had heard a few stories and had made up his mind. I have

my preconceptions, Karen thought of him bitterly, don't cause any trouble by telling me the truth and she took fire straight away, throwing all her good

resolutions out the window.

"We've got some of the most dangerous men in the country. Proper education, doing 16 hours out of the cells, drugs rehab, real work." Eric Bostock intoned

from the script.

"And we all know how you fund that, don't we. Shit wages, understaffing, no training. Prisoners packed in like sardines. No wonder your shareholders love

you so much." Karen threw in the face of the two unseeing creatures in front of her.

"Obviously knows her days are numbered." Grayling told Bostock in an exaggerated stage whisper.

Karen stormed off back to her office, past Yvonne's eyes who had clocked this new man as someone who the Krays would think twice about bumping off. He gave

off that unmistakable evil aura.

First thing she picked up was an Area "Question and Answer briefing" which Grayling had initialled for her to deliver in a talk to the staff. Why ask me

to give messages from Area when I fundamentally don't trust the bastards and what answers can I give to reassure the POs? Oh well, let's open it up and

see what bollocks it says."

Question "How many staff will be needed at Larkhall, what job do I apply for and how do I do it."

Answer . "It is not clear at this stage how many staff will be required by Lynfords. You have the choice of what job you can apply for in the prospectus

attached. See appendix 1 for the model application form"

Question - "If I am unsuccessful in my job application, what are my job options."

Answer "Every effort will be made to provide alternative employment to place surplus staff in other prisons. Staff are expected to move within the travelling

distance limits set out in the Staff Rules in the paragraph headed "mobility terms." The availability of alternative employment will be subject to the

staffing requirements of other prisons."

Question - "Are there redundancy terms available."

Answer "It is too early to tell at this stage. Further information will become available when it is known."

Karen threw the briefing paper into the wastebin in disgust and reached for the vodka bottle and took a large swig. When the alcohol had mercifully dulled

the edge of her feeling of outrage, the memory of a more pleasant afternoon spent in a pub with Yvonne Atkins came back to her mind.

She was sitting on the barstool and offered her lighter to Yvonne who angled the line of the cigarette to the flame. The sun poured through the window and

bathed Yvonne's face in a gentle glow. For once, there was something soft in the expression of her face.

"Ritchie's been a bastard but even he's known he's done wrong. All his life he's known he'll get the truth from me instead of his smooth talking bastard

of a dad. I'm just sorry you nearly got caught up in it, Karen. That won't happen again. I'll give you my word on that." Yvonne told her earnestly.

Funny, Karen thought bitterly, she'd believe implicitly a convicted criminal and the wife of the centre of London's gangland far more than the treacherous

bastards the right side of the prison wall who thought that there was no blood on their hands and that they hadn't broken the law.

Scene 12 (In Dreams)

Everything was a swirly white before Karen's eyes as a strange feeling overcome her of being drawn up out of her everyday life and upwards in some journey.

She had no sensation of height or vertigo but had a feeling of inner tranquillity and that the force that drew her up had her in its care and would not

let her down.

Suddenly her eyes cleared and a light fall of snow sprinkled down onto the gentle undulating ground. Her feet took themselves forward of their own accord

and a herald of celestial trumpets greeted her and angelic shapes whispered to her that she had been transported into the Fifth Dimension to meet a Very

Important Man who had studied her plight and wanted to help her.

"That's very kind of him." murmured Karen with more of a feeling of trust than she had let herself feel for such a long time.

With a gentle striding motion, she came upon the stranger who she studied as she got closer. He was engrossed in reading a large book and so her study of

the man was undisturbed. He was dressed in a three-piece suit in an old fashioned angular style but with a certain flamboyance and he had a mop of white

hair and a goatee beard and spectacles. He put his book down and spoke to her in fluent English though accented in Russian.

"Good evening, Miss Betts. Welcome to my surroundings. More magnificent than my humble dwelling in Mexico. I am Leon Trotsky, one time leader of the Military

Revolutionary Committee that led the Bolshevik Revolution."

Karen shook her head. From far off history lessons in school, she could vaguely remember his name but the last thing she expected as an overworked Wing

Governor in Larkhall Prison was to be introduced to a famous world revolutionary leader. Queuing up to see George Michael in concert in her younger years

was the high point of her aspirations.

When she recovered from her confusion, she could see that his surroundings had red flags draped on banner poles marking off his quarters. She could not

read the script as they were written in an angular foreign language. In the middle was a portrait of a middle-aged man, bald, with a short beard but with

penetrating eyes which gazed knowingly into Karen's soul.

"You are no doubt surprised to see me here. And me a Bolshevik and, by definition, a militant Atheist being honoured by eternity and at the hands of a deity

that I do not believe in. Yet she has explained that because of my lifetime spent dedicated to furtherance in humanity, I have been honoured. And I am

reunited with the great Vladimir- Lenin to you- who was my hero, even though I'd argued with him. So tragic that his life was cut short when it was."

From nowhere a massed choir sang a refrain in perfect harmony.

"Then raise the scarlet standard high

Within it's shade we'll live or die

Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer

We'll keep the red flag flying here."

Being in more of a receptive mood, Karen said "Yeah, that song reminds me of Fenner and Grayling. Though I don't suppose that you know what I'm talking

about." She finished more timidly than was her normal manner. "This is not in the time that you were famous."

"But of course," Leon replied effusively. "Even now, I follow every revolutionary struggle now I have all eternity to study it. To consider merely history

in the lifetime I was on your planet is totally un-Marxist. The dialectics of history compel me to follow the class struggle no matter what forms it takes.

There is no final shape of history, least of all when Lenin, me, Zinoviev, Kamenev and Sverdlov gave the leadership of the Bolshevik revolution. That was

unfinished business. If you would be most kind, Miss Betts, could you help me with this modern device called a video. I'm getting old and these devices

try the patience of someone not born into this age."

Suddenly a TV and video emerged from the whiteness of the room. Karen clicked onto the remote control and fiddled about a bit. Suddenly, the shape of Nikki

Wade, on the second floor at Larkhall prison, leapt out of the TV screen. She was calling for a sit down protest demanding proper conditions for Femi,

the convicted drugs mule and that the Prison Officers who assaulted her should be disciplined.

"Ah my Nikita, my favourite daughter. So proud, so fiery, What an orator. How I would have loved to be with her in addressing the factory workers of Petrograd.

Such a, how you say it, a double act. Such dedication and courage." Leon's eyes were shining with admiration and he seemed younger than his apparent years.

"Yeah, Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart. It's a pity I wasn't closer to them than I was. I was away with Jim Fenner on holiday." And Karen's face grimaced at

this point.

"You are sad, Karen." Leon's understanding eyes focussed in on her. "Don't be. We all make our mistakes. I did. With Stalin."

"How did that happen, Leon." Karen asked him gently as she could see the sadness peek through the old fashioned continental gaiety of spirit. And Karen

as if by mysterious process read the words of Trotsky written in his book about his arch rival Stalin.

"Since early youth, Stalin had sought power over people, who, for the most part, seemed to him weaker than himself. Yet he was neither wiser, nor more educated

nor more eloquent than others He did not possess a single one of those attributes which attract sympathy. But he was richer than others in cold persistence

and practical common sense. He did not yield to impulses: rather he knew how to subject them to his calculations...Even in that early period, Stalin did

not hesitate to set his opponents against each other, and to carry on intrigues against every one who was, in any way, seemed to be superior to him or

who seemed a hindrance in his path...."

"Yeah, that's Jim Fenner all right," Karen recalled bitterly. "That was the way he set me against Helen Stewart. And it was all my fault. And that is why

Colin Hedges is so afraid of him."

"Then you must contact Helen," Leon advised her. "It is the part of a leader, like you, having made that false step, to retrace that step. And do not give

Jim Fenner any warning of the blow you inflict upon him. I made that mistake. Vladimir told me to trust to no rotten compromise that Stalin might offer.

And I ignored that advice."

Karen's mind was cleared now. It was late in the day but not too late.

"And you live under the rule of a Labour leader called Tony Blair. Pfft." Leon Trotsky spat derisively. " Read this if you please as you must be aware of

the wider struggle which you are of a part."

"Let us overcome our natural aversion and read through the article in which Ramsay McDonald expounded his views a short time before leaving office. We warn

the reader in advance that we shall have to enter a mental junk shop in which the suffocating odour of camphor is not sufficient to retard the effective

work of the moths."

Karen rolled off the invisible chair and laughed in that infectious way that Leon Trotsky joined in politely pleased that someone of another age could relate

to his most satisfying written jab to the solar plexus.

"' Who cannot deny that poverty is evil, not only for the individual but for society? Who does not feel sympathy for the poor'. We here find presented as

a theory of socialism the philosophy of the socially minded philanthropic bourgeois who feels 'sympathy' with the poor and because of his sympathy makes

'religion his conscience' not permitting it, however to interfere very much with his business habits."

The assured knowledge and irony focussed in her place in the world around and her position. It was satisfying, sharing the vast accumulated wisdom of the

man and it brought into sharp focus what she must do and it gave her strength she needed and what she must do.

"Remember," Leon Trotsky advised her finally before she wended the way of the downward slide back to earth. "If it lies in God's hands to make or mar the

future, you are the hands, and the allies that you can gather up. If there is a God," smiled Trotsky ironically. "she is a wise woman. A lot of 'Christians'

are in for a shock when they die. "

Karen saw Leon wave to her all the way down and he never walked away until she was gone.

Scene 13

Almost the first of Karen's waking thoughts as she rubbed the eyes of sleep from the long journey she felt she had taken was a list of things she must do

and fast. It gave her a nice feeling that she could take some steps to decide her fate.

Karen was walking along the 3s when she spotted Yvonne looking down on the wing, her arms resting against the bar. Fenner glanced upwards when he was chatting

away to Eric Bostock about his ideas on running Larkhall and glared.

"You see that woman up there, Eric." Fenner advised him in his most confiding tone. "When your lot are in here, that's the first one you need to nail, she's

trouble."

"Coming to the Social Club for a pint," Eric asked, for once with as much a smile on his face that he could manage.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was drilling and banging sounds coming as a bunch of workmen were fixing up wall brackets in regular intervals along the wing and the first CCTV camera

was set up. The cameras were being tested and checked over. And it wasn't the regular Board of Works who were doing the job, it was outside contractors.

"Wonder if those wankers are better at fixing those cameras than the regular lot," Denny said to Julie J the other side of the breakfast table as she puffed

away at a cigarette.

"The bloody thing will probably fall down in a week, mate. Why should they be better than what we've got already? Supermen they ain't" Julie S replied derisively

to the man who had to drill another hole into the stonework to fit the brackets to hold the camera. The piles of grey dust that powdered down from the

ceiling indicated that the workman was chewing up enough of the ancient structure of the building with his drill.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank Christ those two vultures have gone, thought Karen. Those cowboy workmen doing the job are telling everyone that Lynford Securities are so cocky that

they think the whole thing is in the bag. For Christ sake, they aren't being subtle about it.

"Yvonne, have you got a minute? In your cell." Karen asked quietly.

Once inside, Karen came straight to the point.

"I want to ask you a favour, Yvonne. I need you to ask contacts on the outside like Lauren to try and track down Helen Stewart. I need to get in touch with

her urgently."

Yvonne's eyebrows were raised that the ultra correct Karen was resorting to the less than reputable Larkhall empire for official business. Hasn't she got

access to a bleeding army load of pen pushers and a truckload of files.

"I need someone reliable, discreet, someone that Grayling and his lot won't catch onto and not someone who's going to lose her bloody file, deliberately

or otherwise. I need extra muscle, everything I can get or else Lynfords will take over and we've all had it."

"And you're looking at Lauren, Miss Betts."

"She's your daughter, isn't she. That says enough for me, what I've heard of her and what I've seen of her at visiting time. I'm sure she'll find Helen.

I pretty sure I know who can do a bloody job right without botching it and also who I can trust these days and who not to."

Yvonne said nothing but trusted that if Karen was making such a request then she'd better do it. Funny to think that of the small number of people she really

trusted, Karen Betts, head screw was one of them.

The next appointment Karen had was the internet room where she sat herself down and a smile of satisfaction crossed her face when she found what she wanted

and the next source of outside influence was but a phone call away.

"Lauren, I've got a bit of business for you," Yvonne whispered into the phone." I want you to track down Helen Stewart for me.....yes I know it's bloody

strange asking you to track down an ex screw for me but when you've done this, Karen Betts needs to talk to her. You might be best to play it by ear when

you see her whether you talk to her to pave the way first, so to speak or let Karen do the talking later on. Yes it's a bloody unusual thing to ask but

this is for real. It's for all of us. I've given Karen your address and phone number, she'll fill you in on the details."

Lauren put the phone down, shaking her head and trying to make sense of it all. What's with this Karen? Was she, who ran the network of the Atkins empire

with operations ranging from the barely legitimate to the dead dodgy, going to spend time tracing down one ex Wing Governor for the benefit of another?

Wasn't this the one Mum only recently or so it seemed, referred to her as that cow Betts. She was the one who, together with Fenner, had blocked the attempt

for mum to climb over the wall with a rope ladder thrown over the wall by her gang? She'd handled some strange assignments for Mum like delivering a bulk

order of guitars, a Harley Davidson for a screw Mum fancied, fixing up the phones for the 'babes behind bars' scam but this one hit the jackpot and just

what is Mum up to anyway? She can't keep up with life at Larkhall these days and she had the feeling it wasn't worth trying, it would be bad for her head.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lauren was sweating as she drove her car along the succession of mountain hairpin bends in the heart of the Welsh Mountains. The woodlands stretched for

miles and the sunlight shining in her eyes flickered as it was filtered through the leaves and overhanging branches of the huge trees that overhung the

road. She was used to dicing with death in the speedtracks of the London traffic system where the timid drivers got cut up and shouted at. This was another

world as the roads were impossibly narrow and she was fearful of approaching a car head on coming the other way round the hundredth blind corner. A country

girl, she would never be and where the hell is the nearest pub round these parts?

Following the road directions, she turned into a side road that, to her wasn't much more than a cart track, and went in a dizzying climb up the mountain

and up onto the very top of the universe. The grasslands and hillocks were intersected by a succession of stone walls and little cottages. Most worryingly,

the stone walls lined the road so that, one slip up in her driving, and it would noisily and expensively gouge up the side of the car without so much as

knocking a speck off the wall. The bloody drivers round here must have radar perception, Lauren thought frantically to herself.

She turned her way up a short hill and the name of the cottage appeared on the left. Manoeuvring the car with intense caution turning into the drive, she

pulled the car up a short slope, cut the engine and sank back in the driving seat, exhausted and deadbeat. Give me the M25 in the rush hour any day rather

than this country endurance test.

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Helen was looking at her watch while Nikki busied herself in the back garden. She had had a sudden leap into the past when Yvonne Atkins phoned her up from

out of the blue asking if her daughter Lauren could come over and talk to her. This gave her very mixed feelings. One part of her was an intense feeling

of blind panic, emotionally dragging her back against her will to a period of her life she wanted to forget. Life at Larkhall felt like some fearful whirlpool

dragging her down into the depths when with a mighty effort, she had escaped to the peace and beauty of life on the beach of her present life.

.....An image floated into her mind of Yvonne's sharp honesty and someone she could trust. Despite the craftiness with which she carried on her private

business, she was infinitely preferable as top dog than Shell Dockley....

Helen shook her head to clear her thoughts and walked to the mirror on the stone mantelpiece. Reflected back at her in the mirror was a face tinted with

all the sun-tanned glow of country living and a touch of blond in her hair that did not come out of a bottle, but the natural soothing air. First thing

in the morning, a very pallid face used to stare blankly back at her with all the stress lines that needed makeup to cover along with all her vulnerabilities

before she could set foot at Larkhall.

Helen wandered out into the back garden which overlooked the rugged shapes and varied hues of the mountain range which Snowdon topped. Right at the back

of the garden, Nikki was absorbed in tending to the garden, eagerly expanding in her horizons from the cramped Larkhall Prison rose gardens to growing

vegetables at the bottom of their garden and flowers of all description. The air was cool and fresh and that in itself breathed a feeling of dreamy contentment

while the sun smiled down on them both. She looked at the cottage which was theirs. The square bright red painted wooden window frames stood out against

the solid grey stonework which would last all eternity. Nikki had climbed up a very high ladder and had repainted them only this summer as her enthusiasm

for DIY and lack of fear of heights exceeded Helen's.

"I'm going to cash in my hand and pick up a piece of land

I'm gonna build myself a cabin in the woods

And it's there I'm gonna stay until there comes a day

When this old world starts changing for the good

Now the reason I'm smiling is over on an island

On a hillside in the woods where I belong."

Nikki's sun-tanned face smiled up at Helen as she walked along the rough slate pathway bringing a steaming hot mug of coffee to where she was working but

she immediately noticed the shadows in Helen's eyes and asked her what the matter was.

"Ghosts from the past, Nikki," Helen replied shortly. "Come on, we must talk."


	2. Part Two

DISCLAIMER: All the characters used within this story are the property of Shed Productions. I am using them solely to explore my creative ability.

ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

SPOILRERS: Up to series 5.

It Ain't Me Babe

An Alternative series 5 Karen / Yvonne Tribute

By

Richard

Scene 14

A very rubberlegged Lauren wobbled up the steep slate drive. The high heel of her leather boot disappeared down a crack in the stone drive and she lurched

sideways, thrown off balance nearly spraining her ankle. Oh yeah give me the joys of the countryside, Lauren groaned to herself. Eventually, she hobbled

to the front door where she virtually fell into the house and collapsed into the ancient carved wooden rocking chair.

"You all right, Lauren." Helen's concerned expression took in the white-faced exhausted shape slumped in the chair while Nikki went to fetch a big glass

of lemon squash. She brought up a footstool and Lauren's body eagerly embraced the gentle rocking sensation.

"Jesus, how in hell do you country people manage to get around. I've totally had it." Lauren replied weakly. "Give me a bit of time to recover."

"There's time." Helen replied calmly, reassuring Lauren that she could have a break from the frenetic lifestyle of running the Atkins business. For the

first time, she was conscious of the cool air gently wafting through the open front door and the tranquillity of time passing. This was out in the country,

not the urban jungle where you triple lock your front door in case the burglars break in. Lauren was conscious too, that her smart dress, boots, swish

hairstyle and female Atkins perfect makeup also spoke a different lifestyle to the two suntanned relaxed women dressed in comfortable trainers, jeans and

casual tops.

"Thanks, Helen." Lauren said gratefully.

She saw two expectant faces looking at her, waiting for to be ready to talk, and collecting her thoughts into some sort of shape, plunged in.

Lauren stumbled her way into the conversation as she was working off what Karen had told her in a long conversation on the phone of a world that was the

other side of the prison bars. Even regular visits to Larkhall provided an inadequate patchwork effect of material to dress her arguments in to Helen and

Nikki. The fact that they had been there in the past made things worse as Larkhall had moved on since their time.

"Karen mentioned that Larkhall has a new boss called Grayling." Lauren finished before stopping for a fresh swig of lemon squash. Not her normal drink but

it satisfied a ravening thirst in these parts.

Helen's expressive face twisted into a grimace of disgust and loathing.

"You know him, Hel." Nikki politely asked.

"I was on a management course with him once." Helen exploded with passion." A treacherous, self centred deceitful bastard out for his own ends. Mr Buzz

Word. A man who would sell his own grandmother if he would get something out of it. He was hanging round all the time with the area man in charge of the

course as if he was up his arse. If he's anything to do with Larkhall, it means real trouble. I don't like this one."

"Probably was if what Karen says is true. And also about him being after Fenner's arse also." smiled Lauren wickedly.

"Well, if he's giving Fenner a hard time, there's something to be said for him." Nikki replied, for once in her life totally missing the point.

"I mean, Grayling was after Fenner's arse. He was trying to shag him. Karen knows the full story."

Time counted one, two, three, four and Helen and Nikki fell about in helpless laughter. This was really rich for both of them to savour. After all those

venomous jibes that both Nikki and Helen had received from him, this was a turnup for the book. Helen's very raucous laugh could be heard from outside

the cottage with Nikki's slightly higher pitched tones harmonising with it. Even though the story wasn't new to Lauren, the mood was so infectious that

Lauren joined in.

"You haven't come all the way to tell us the biggest joke I've ever heard, Lauren." Nikki smiled broadly, the period of hilarity having broken the ice between

them." There's more to tell."

"It's that Karen is asking for help from both of you. Not for herself." Lauren hastily added on seeing the expression on Helen's face. "But that there are

real problems at Larkhall, now. They are threatening to privatise it."

Helen and Nikki's face registered shock at this one.

"But they can't do this. You can't lock up prisoners for profit." they chorused.

"I don't know the details," Lauren said hesitantly. "You'll have to talk to Karen if you want to. She's broken with Fenner shortly after you left Larkhall.

She's seen him for what he is and I think she's about the only screw wanting to do anything about it. But she's got Grayling out to run her out of the

service especially if she doesn't get her own job if Lynford Securities takeover. And Fenner is stabbing her in the back for all he's worth. She wanted

more than anything else to apologise to you, Helen. She knows that she gave you a hard time and she stuck up for that bastard against you. And guess what,

the bastard raped her."

Helen's face was a picture as the raw details of Lauren's story delivered without artifice, but brutally short statements which her imagination could fill

in. The thought jumped into Helen's mind that Karen is in exactly the same position that she was a few years ago but with a few twists. Nikki felt total

incredulity at the whole thing. Surely Larkhall couldn't dream up more horrors than she had lived through. But it was as plain as could be that they could.

The cosy sunlit cottage felt cold and Nikki had a sudden shiver.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"..There were rumours of strange things happening in the world outside, and as Gandalf had not at that time appeared or sent any messages for several years.

Frodo gathered all the news he could. ..now Frodo often met strange dwarves of far countries, seeking refuge in the West. They were troubled and some spoke

in whispers of the Enemy and of the Land of Mordor...that name the hobbits only knew in legends of the dark past, like a shadow in the background of their

memories, but it was ominous and disquieting. The Dark Tower had been rebuilt, it was said. From there, the power was spreading far and wide, and away,

far east and south there were wars and growing fear...."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Of course, we will help." Helen spoke for them decisively though a fear ran through her of what they were letting themselves in for. They had to see Karen,

sort out their past differences and take it from there. Quite how they could help was beyond her but she was content to let events unfold. Besides, at

the bottom of her thoughts lurked the mischievous curiosity to find out more about Fenner and Grayling, a very minor personal insignificant matter in the

grand order of things but still somehow fitting.

Scene 15

"I thought I'd call you all together, you guys, to put in the picture. As you know I believe in open management." Grayling spoke, his hands opened wide,

summoning up his best sincere manner. "So I thought it only right and proper to inform you all that Area have given the all clear for Lynford Securities

to hold a series of informal chats to the staff, a 'getting to know you' process so that we can see each other less as strangers to be feared and more

a new force to reinvigorate the spirit of G Wing. This does not signal that in any way," Grayling spoke emphatically while Karen smiled cynically "that

there has been a secret deal to let Lynford in with a nod and wink before a final decision is made, one way or the other. As POA rep, Sylvia, I take it

you have no problems with these arrangements."

"Er no..not at all." Bodybag's eyes swivelled round in a state of confusion.

"So, that will be that and arrangements will be made to proceed as discussed. A list will be prepared as to when your informal chat is. Let me know if there

are any clashes with your own personal arrangements, if you please."

"As informal as that." Karen said drily.

Karen left it a couple of seconds for someone else to speak and just as Grayling was going to put his papers away and depart, she decided that this was

the point that she was going to start the battle.

"How much information do we have about their plans for G Wing, their reputation in terms of staff relations, health and safety standards, union recognition."

Karen asked quietly. "What I've had through the official channels hasn't exactly been clear or specific."

"Have you disseminated the information from Area in the Q and A that I left you, Karen" Grayling snapped. "I gave you specific written instructions to do

that." The way his lips were pursed together and the glare in his eyes gave off very clear danger signals.

"You mean you've been holding back on information to give the troops, Karen." Fenner said in his oiliest tones. "That wasn't very open of you."

"It's there in the wastebin if you want to look at it, Jim Fenner. By all means, go on, take a look at it. It's obvious that Area don't mind looking a laughing

stock in the eyes of the staff. It's just that I don't want to be one." Karen finished with a nonchalant touch, gesturing to Fenner who was frozen in a

mid crouch position.

"In answer to your question, Karen, Area have confirmed that, as far as they know, Lynfords conform to the standards as laid down in the national personnel

policies and should be a good alternative employer. After all, Lynfords are ultimately answerable by their contract to the Home Office. Area would not

clear it unless they have the interests of staff in hand."

"Actually, I've been doing a bit of research of my own. There was a very recent suicide of a PO at a prison Bostock's been running, a guy called Stuart

Lander. The reported circumstances of his death are of a sudden tragic set of circumstances." Karen underlined in her voice with an unwavering stare in

Fenner's direction who looked away. "The reality I learned indirectly from his mate who's since left Lynfords and he had some very interesting stories

to tell about Lynford Securities, the sort of stuff that doesn't turn up in the prospectuses. Let me see, for a start constant bullying, shit training,

pressure to not go off work sick when that person is in no fit state to work. Stuart Lander was pressurised to alter his self cert so that that word 'stress'

doesn't appear in Lynford's personnel records. That way, people like you believe what you want to believe that everything in the garden is smelling of

roses. And I'm not talking about the way the prisoners get treated. You create a climate where POs are treated like shit, then why in overcrowded prisons

will prisoners get treated any better? It's like the cat that's just been kicked that takes it out on the mouse, the one thing that's weaker. Oh yes, Sylvia,

they don't recognise unions. Is that open enough for everyone?"

"I'm sick to death of seeing things

from tight lipped, condescending mommies little chauvinists

all I want is the truth

just gimme some truth

all I want is the truth

Just gimme some truth."

During this confrontation, Grayling had stared fixedly at a little badge Karen wore discretely and it irritated him that this distracted him at a tense

moment like this, PGA. How in hell has this woman been able to open a can of worms like this, he raged inwardly? Both anger and fear flamed up inside him

that in an area he felt secure that he knew all the secrets, someone knew more than him. Knowledge is power and for a control freak like Grayling, his

paralysing weakness and vulnerability was more painful and traumatic than for anyone else.

"I remember the words you spoke that day you came back to work, you know, after Cassie Tyler and Roisin Connor pulled you out of that fire risking their

lives and, OK, you got them a free pardon but that was no less than what they deserved. 'None of us can forget what we shared that terrible day but along

with the horror, there was a fantastic pulling togetherness. It's up to us in this prison to build on that bond so that Shaz Wiley did not die in vain.'

Those are the words you spoke, Neil. Looks like we've had some pulling together, Neil, haven't we. And you wonder why I didn't circulate that heap of junk.

Not worth cutting down the Amazon forests for, is it?"

Grayling turned red in the face and stormed out while Fenner went to follow him. Sylvia sat open mouthed at Karen, being utterly dumbstruck how extraordinary

well informed Karen was. Grayling's behaviour betrayed that clear enough.

"You and me need to talk Sylvia. No matter what arguments and clashes we've had in the past, ultimately we need to be on the same side. And it's not Grayling's."

"What is that badge stand for that you're wearing, if you please Ma'am." In a very hushed and polite tone.

"You'll find out soon enough," Karen smiled enigmatically. "Seriously enough, ten o'clock, my office tomorrow."

Karen passed along the 3s in her rounds of G wing and saw Yvonne in the distance who smiled at her. Much closer to her was Colin Hedges who was Yvonne's

personal officer. He gestured to Yvonne and hustled her in to her cell with more urgency than she thought justified. Come to think of that, Colin Hedges

seemed to spend more time with Yvonne Atkins than the other prisoners he was personal officer for. That would be all very well, as she knew that Yvonne

could give any PO a rough ride of it. The trouble was that Colin Hedges reports on the files were pretty thin on the ground. With an ironical raised eyebrow,

she passed on to arranging a meeting which she was dreading but yet could be her salvation. Now was the time to phone Helen up as, though the dustup with

Grayling this morning made her feel deep down, that she was writing out her compulsory transfer notice, the buzz she got from it added edge to her confidence.

Scene 16

Karen gave her flat a quite unnecessary quick retidy up a little before Helen was due to arrive and helped herself to a glass of wine in advance. The minute

hand of her clock crept inexorably towards the six o'clock when Helen was due to arrive and, knowing Helen, that would be when she would arrive. Sure enough,

a loud peal of the doorbell announced Helen's arrival. Karen flung the door open and a radiantly alive, sunblessed Helen greeted her and gave her a big

hug.

"It's really good of you to see me like this, Helen. I was wondering in my deepest fears that you'd come just to spit in my face the way I ended up treating

you." Karen said with an attempt of a joke to break the ice but only revealing Karen's fears to Helen's sharp eyes.

"Nonsense, Karen." Helen said emphatically. "Naturally I was exasperated at the infuriating way you would not see what was before your very eyes, but I

came to realise," Helen added, seeing Karen's discomfiture "that my experience of Fenner was so much different to yours. The bastard puts on the correct

face to suit the person. In any case, from what Lauren has said to Nikki and I, if I thought things were desperate at Larkhall in my time, it's nothing

compared to what's happening now. It's no time to let any past differences to come between us, Karen, not with the prisoners in your charge and not the

officers either. More than ever before, they need the help of any ideas we can come up with between us."

The utter sincerity of tone and the passion with which Helen spoke washed away the last of Karen's reservations. The 'us' and 'we' words welcomed her in.

Tears blinked in Karen's eyes as it was such a long time since she'd had that feeling of loyal unselfish support behind her.

"No need to get excited

The thief he kindly spoke

There are many of us

Who feel that life is but a joke

But you and I we've been through that

And this is not our fate

So let us not talk falsely

The hour is getting late."

Gradually, Karen unfolded the story, a little hesitantly as Helen had been out of Larkhall for what seemed like ages and this casually dressed sunburnt

creature seemed a mile away from the blue suited Wing Governor of Karen's earliest memories. Yet the searching eyes were of old and the short questions

to clarify loose ends in the story was the Helen of old. There was a calm and patience in Helen's manner that was new and Karen came to feel that Helen

had grown, in her time away from Larkhall. Helen was focussed in just right and it wasn't the refills of wine that made Karen relax more and more.

Helen, for her part, had gone through a mix of emotions. The very first seconds of Karen's welcome decided her either to tell her to tell Karen to piss

off, she'd only herself to blame or to drop her feelings of resentment still lingering. Instead, Karen played things straight down the line when Helen

forgave her as she really wanted to. When she thought about it later, the issue was really simple, when she is confronted by the bully and the tyrant,

then she does not have to question who's side she is on. Blended in to the immediate wave of sympathy, Karen felt for her was a feeling of sheer horror

which pinned to her chair as Karen's flat understated tones unfolded the story.

"So where do Nikki and I come in," Helen asked at the end.

"Nikki Wade," echoed Karen uncomprehendingly. "Oh you mean that...."

"Precisely," grinned Helen.

"Oh well, right now, I'm happy to get the help of someone who Fenner badmouthed all the time I was with him as that 'that cunning dyke Wade,' excuse me

Helen for that..... Nikki must have a hell of a lot going for her to be at the top of Fenner's hate list." Karen rambled on threading together her thoughts

as she spoke.

"And, talking about Fenner if we must," Helen replied with a roguish grin, "what's with Fenner and Grayling. Come on, Karen, give us the gossip as that

was part of the reason why I came down here."

"Oh nothing much, just the time Fenner stopped at Grayling's house and going out with Grayling on his stag night before his wedding to Di Barker." Karen

replied pretending vagueness.

"Lauren never told me about the stag night. What else are you holding out on? Now then, Karen Betts, I know I'm little but I'm more dangerous than you,

especially armed with this cushion. Or if that doesn't work, then I used to be your boss so I order you to tell me the gossip." Helen finished, wagging

a wobbling finger in Karen's direction and assuming a slightly drunken air of authority.

Karen succumbed to a helpless attack of the giggles as bit by bit, she told Helen everything she knew and it was soon Helen's turn to be speechless with

laughter. Karen had not known such a carefree feeling like this for so long where she could let her hair down. She did not want the evening to finish so

buoyed up as she was by good feeling and the flat wasn't so empty now, as much as it had felt for a long time. It was like old times being with Helen,

Karen thought, the old times that should have taken place as they chattered nineteen to the dozen and they put away the wine.

Presently, Helen asked. "So where do I fit in with helping you? Cheering from the sidelines is nice but it isn't very practical."

"I don't know, Helen. Just let me list what we've got and chip in where you want. Let's brainstorm this one through. Horrible word but it will do."

Helen stopped Karen's when she was pulling thoughts out of her head and came to an upcoming press event with Wheels in Action where Christopher Biggins

was presenting a motorised wheelchair to Buki Lester's disabled son, Lennox and help 'Lynford Securities launch Larkhall Prison PLC' as Karen sneered in

a disgusted tone.

"That's where Nikki and I come in. Trust me, we'll be there. And I'm sure Yvonne and the other old lags would make the day that those bastards won't forget,

especially if you give them a discreet helping hand."

A feeling swelled inside Karen of a positive feeling that fate had dealt her some winning cards and a grin stretched effortlessly on her face from ear to

ear. It had been a long time she'd had anything to smile at.

"What's the initials on the badge you're wearing, Karen." Helen asked out of interest.

"'Prison Governor's Association', Helen. Well, it's about time I joined a union, isn't it." Karen replied with aplomb.

Scene 17

Sylvia peered round the corner to see if anyone was spying on her and then scuttled down the corridor to Karen Betts's room. In reality, the only person

who spotted her was Yvonne who merely wondered what the nosy old cow was up to now. Karen's office was somewhere she had gone to in the past when she had

to, to get a dressing down from 'Her Majesty.'. For her to go there voluntarily was a novel experience to her. Sylvia had turned everything over in her

mind all last night even to accidentally burning her steak pudding, an unknown in her household.

For so long, Jim Fenner had been the one solid reliable feature in her life at work. He'd been the friendly source of advice, someone she could moan to

about the daily things in her life that irritated her. He could have his odd funny moods but what else could she expect from a man? Her Bobby had been

just the same and it was something you learnt to live with. Jim was one of the old timers who she felt a deep bond with from having shared so many shifts

in the good times and the bad while other POs came and went.

"It was just a formality. A woman of my experience. Recruitment the way it is." Sylvia had bragged to the crowded mess of her assurance that, no matter

what happened to the other POs, her job was safe and that she would waltz through the interview for Lynfords.

But all this time, she had been worried. From the day Mr Grayling gave them notice of the possible privatisation, deep down she was scared. She knew that

her attendance record was spotted with times off work with backache and that her doctor was used to, if not bored by, her constant recitals of her various

ailments. Miss Stewart and Miss Betts had had a periodic go at her about her sick record, especially the physical fitness regime Karen Betts had ordered

for her, prancing around in that stupid tracksuit that made her a mockery to all the cons.

She never forgave any slight to her and she had a score of resentments against Miss Betts. But, cutting through all that was the bewildering but certain

conviction that she was talking the absolute truth. Grayling knew that, that's for sure as he never denied any of it and why oh why, did Jim follow after

Grayling and not stand his ground and stay with the rest of us? For the first time in his life, Jim looked shifty and suspicious as if he had something

to hide. Her mind was made up, unlikely though it seemed, she must join forces with Miss Betts. She had no choice because if she didn't, she was ruined.

"Come in, Sylvia." Karen called out with, to her, a forced cordiality. "Take a seat."

Karen moved out from behind her official desk to a comfy chair next to it and had gestured Sylvia to sit in the other one opposite it.

It was a strange sensation for Sylvia to be sitting in this less formal atmosphere which jarred with her long conditioning of etiquette in a prison officer

hierarchy.

"Mind if I smoke." Karen asked politely and on the silent assent, pulled out a cigarette and took a long drag from it to relax and get into what she was

going to say.

"You were asking the other day, Sylvia, what this badge stands for. The answer is simple. I've joined the union, the Prison Governor's Association. I'd

never heard of it before but I'd browsed the Internet, picked up the phone and joined up straightaway."

"But it's unheard of, a boss to join a union." gaped Sylvia at the totally unexpected news.

"So is locking up prisoners for profit, Sylvia." Karen proceeded gently, prepared for the long haul to get through to her. "A lot of things are happening

these days that are unheard of. When it comes down to it, my job can be sold over my head as it were a piece of merchandise quite as easily in my case

as it is in yours. Sure, I've got more authority than you, Sylvia have but that's all. As for being a Wing Governor, my position is clear. As Wing Governor,

I am responsible for the welfare of the POs under me and I have authority over them. As a Union Member, I will do my best for our collective welfare and

work my butt off to use everything in my power to help defend their terms and conditions. As far as the prisoners are concerned, you and I will disagree

till the end of time but we can live with these differences, surely.".

"Mr Grayling's not going to like this," Sylvia replied, still trying to get her head round all this.

"I know for an absolute fact that he won't like it one bit. In fact, I'm sure that I'm going to get a phone call to report to his office any time now, once

he's tracked me down."

"I'll.I'll go in with you, Karen if you want any help," Sylvia found herself saying eagerly, suddenly aware exactly what sort of interview Karen was talking

about.

"That is really nice of you, Sylvia but I've got an alternative plan which will stitch up Grayling very nicely. Your part in this will be in not being available,

this will work better. Believe me." Karen added gently, seeing her in Sylvia's eyes as a tired out, not very bright old war-horse and, for all her posturing,

not a very good POA rep. "I'll let you know how I've gone on. And thanks, Sylvia, thanks for your offer. It was very kind of you and well meant."

"So where do I fit in, Miss. I'm not very sure there's much that I can do." sniffed Sylvia, dabbing her eyes. A mix of unsettling emotions flowed through

her but she latched onto the lifeline of the kindness and tenderness of Karen's last words, so far from their traditional enmities, to pull her through.

"I'm on your side when times get rough

and friends just can't be found

Like a bridge over troubled waters

I will lay me down."

"There is a lot that you can do, Sylvia. For a start, I know that there has been sniping at me for what I've done at Larkhall, OK some of it from you. You

can help reverse that, OK, I'm not asking you to say that Karen Betts is a Joan of Arc and the sun shines out of her backside." smiled Karen. "But at least

if I'm fighting Grayling, I'd find it much easier to take on the one enemy. You are there amongst the POs much more of your time than I am."

"But what about Jim Fenner." Asked Sylvia anxiously. "It's not easy, me being friends with him for so long and you and him not exactly getting on very well."

Karen smiled at the monumental understatement of the century.

"I know about you and Jim, that you go back a long way and I wouldn't want to make you feel like a traitor or to snitch on him," Karen said evenly ,"Just

as long as Jim doesn't dump on the rest of us and leave us in the lurch. If you did hear anything of that, at that point I would ask you to tell me, as

Karen Betts and a fellow member of a union. There's too much at stake not to tell"

At that point, the fog of confusion in Sylvia's brain cleared and, for the first time in her life, a decisive shift in her thinking took place and Sylvia

smiled warmly at Karen. Sylvia now knew that if Karen couldn't save them all, no one could and she had a part to play in this. The firm handshake between

them at the end of the interview was the first time they had ever made any physical contact that symbolised a meeting of minds, however against all normal

odds.

Scene 18

Karen strolled along the corridor, pleased that matters had gone so well with Sylvia but that indefinable prickly feeling in her skin of impending danger

in the air. She chided herself for being fanciful. She bloody knew that she was going to get an almighty bollocking from Grayling, as she'd pushed him

pretty far. It was only a matter of when and how the blow would fall.

Passing into the PO's mess, Jim Fenner was pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Oh Karen, by the way, the Number One passed me on the landing to ask you to pop up to his room. He said he wanted to have a chat to clear the air, so to

speak. Nothing to worry about." Fenner's best 'butter wouldn't melt in his mouth' soothing tones and innocent expression in his eyes did not work for one

second now that Karen saw him for what he was. Believe the opposite of what that bastard is saying and you'll be pretty close to the truth, she told herself.

"I'd best pop along and reassure Grayling in that case. You know, put his mind at rest." Karen replied with her best icy smile and assumed casual unhurried

air that she could summon up though, in truth, there were a few butterflies in her stomach.

Once in his room, one look at Grayling told Karen that she was walking into a war zone. The expression on his face gave that away.

"Come in, Karen. I expect you know what this interview is about. I intend to give you a written warning under the disciplinary procedures for your behaviour

which was contrary to good discipline. I must caution you are not obliged to say anything but anything that you say in your defence..."

"Hold it, hold it, Neil, there are a couple of things you have overlooked before you hand out summary justice like this. If this is a formal disciplinary

matter, I insist on union representation before you take one step further. I know my rights."

"Union member, Karen, since when." Grayling said, his face tense and white. "Since when do Governor Grades join a union? Besides," and here Grayling attempted

a confidential smile that turned out to look more like a grimace. "Unions aren't the thing for governors to get involved with if you want to get on. You

know that"

"Since a few days ago, Neil. PGA on this badge means Prison Governor Association." Karen smiled broadly, having clearly enunciated the last few words as

if for a stranger from a different land which, in a sense, he was. "I'm a union member. You are alleging that I have committed some kind of misdemeanour.

You wish to press disciplinary proceedings. You cannot do it without allowing me rights of representation, and in fact, you cannot do it without giving

clear written notice in advance of this meeting."

"There's an obvious way to clear our way through this needless red tape. What about Sylvia Hollamby. This matter cannot be deferred." Grayling started to

go red in the face and slip in his ploy of laying the responsibility on Karen for throwing a spanner in the works and use her sense of responsibility as

a baited trap.

"There's still the matter of the advance notice and Sylvia is a POA Rep, not PGA, you are presuming in advance that she will go ahead with a matter. What

if she can't or won't?"

Karen's breath intake was short and rapid as she dealt with this deadly verbal fencing. Grayling's anger was part fuelled by a sudden loss of confidence

in himself that he could bend someone else to his will by blandishments, threats or bribery. He'd had a shock this morning that his schemes were starting

to unravel.

"Of course, there is a solution..." and Karen dragged out the pause to wind Grayling up. "A National Union officer could come out, with prior appointment,

on a date that's convenient to both of us and we are busy people what with Lynfords crawling round the place keeping us both busier than we would otherwise

be. On these conditions, it is not unreasonable that you could go ahead with what you have in mind." Karen was at her most provokingly casual at this point

and she could see that every word was working him up into a state of anger. Good, she thought, as anyone angry like him won't think straight.

"Unthinkable, Karen, utterly unthinkable. I shall not have some outsider union official meddling in the private affairs of this prison that he doesn't understand."

"But you'll welcome Lynfords with open arms. There's obviously a difference in principle here. Perhaps you could explain it to me Neil as I don't quite

understand." Karen replied at her most icy cool, apparently most innocent and most dangerous.

It wasn't often that Grayling was stuck for words but his anger choked him as his imperious nature and ability to manipulate was blocked at every turn.

He just gestured to Karen to leave.

Karen looked around at the spacious room and aware of the vast space between her and the safety of Grayling's closed door. With the feeling that a dangerous

beast was temporarily paralysed, she discreetly edged her way out of Grayling's lair. She beat a retreat back to the safety of her office with the thrill

of victory written on her face visible to Yvonne's sharp eyes. Yvonne's curiosity was definitely aroused, first seeing Bodybag emerge from Karen's room

and be smiling and now Karen looking very pleased with herself about something.

"Now I long for the morning when they realise

Brutality and unjust laws can't defeat us

But who'll defend the workers who cannot organise

When the bosses send their lackeys out to cheat us."

When Karen had drawn a huge breath of relief and had collected herself, she grabbed the phone for the PGA National Rep. For once in her life, Karen's account

of events was ragged and disjointed, drunk as she was with the victory of battle that left her on a total emotional high, a mood not suited for a cool

dispassionate recital of the facts of the matter. The guy on the other end of the phone patiently asked her to rerun chunks of the conversation. He was

used to calming down the first panic-stricken cry for help but this was different, remembering the calm self assured voice he'd previously heard on first

contact. Helen's version of the latest news was more back to the controlled Karen of old but her sharp ears picked up the vibrant tones of a recent battle.

Next thing on Karen's list is to talk to Yvonne and then, after that, she'll deal with the mundane bundle of files in her in tray, which were threatening

to spill off onto her desk.

Scene 19

Karen strode along the 3s to Yvonne's cell, her heels clicking rapidly, still charged up from the events of the morning. She opened her cell door which

swung back silently on its hinges without her usual preliminary warning knock. There before her, Yvonne had had her arms wrapped round Colin with her tongue

down his throat and she was rapidly making up for lost time on the outside. Colin was highly nervous, not being used to a ravenously sexual woman taking

the initiative the way she was. Colin jerked back violently when the cell door opened pulling back from the obvious embrace with Yvonne more than a very

few unsplit seconds way too late. Colin had the delusion that he had moved quicker than Superman did, back through a timewarp, that he had saved the day

and his reputation and Yvonne's.

"I was helping Yvonne Atkins get a fly out of her eye, Miss" Colin Hedges sheepishly said, using the oldest feeble excuse under the sun.

Yvonne choked as an intake of air went the wrong way down her windpipe and then started laughing as not even the most bleeding brain dead person could come

up with something like that Yvonne thought that when she got caught out with her first teenage boyfriend, he came up with a better line than that. The

expression of total disbelief on Karen's face was priceless to Yvonne. If you're going to lie, Colin Hedges, make it a good one, Karen thought as I've

heard them all before from my exes.

"I must congratulate you on your single minded zeal in tending to Yvonne Atkins' needs. Other personal officers like Sylvia had to be dragged kicking and

screaming to see Yvonne. Yvonne must really appreciate all your special efforts. However, I have some personal business of my own with Yvonne Atkins. If

you don't mind, Colin."

Colin Hedges beat a hasty and grateful retreat while Yvonne's smirk grew broader all the time.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend

No, I've never seen him before

I saw him making love with you

You forgot to close the garage door

You might think he loves you for your money

But I know what he really loves you for

It's your brand new leopardskin pillbox hat"

"I ought to have words with Mr Hedges about this matter, but I'll overlook it this one time. Perhaps it would be a bit unfair to blame him." Karen said

with a hint of a smile on her lips. "I won't turn a blind eye for ever as well you know." Karen added a little more severely. "However, after having had

two blazing rows with Grayling this morning, and I mean blazing, I have to ask myself what really matters around here. Keep this under your hat what I've

just said, Yvonne."

Yvonne's mind was whizzing like lightning, reacting to every one of Karen's words and mannerisms. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them

that neither of them would pry into each other's business but if the one of them talked, the other listened with the sort of perception that age and experience

of life brings.

"Look, I thought you might be interested to know. The dream machine wheelchair presentation has been scheduled. It's taking place here in Larkhall. In the

gardens. Christopher Biggins, the patron of Kids on Wheels UK will be attending to accept the chair on Lennox's behalf."

What the frigging hell was Karen on about, Yvonne wondered? Why the sudden mention of this irrelevant crap to me of all people.

"And?" Yvonne asked with a poker face.

"It's going to be quite an event. I know Bostock is hoping to attract a lot of publicity for his company. If I've got it right, we might see some old friends

from Larkhall there." Karen finished with raised eyebrows and a subtle change in tone from official correctness and more than a hint of a smirk at the

corner of her mouth.

"We'll be on our best behaviour," Yvonne replied softly.

"I'm counting on it." Karen's smirk was more obvious than ever.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karen looked at the list of 'informal chats' that had been prepared and the headed notepaper, Lynford Securities on which it appeared and the curt way he

expected people to be there as ordered. His master's voice indeed. Well, I've got news for you, Mr Bostock, Karen thought grimly. I'm swapping with Sylvia

who was only too keen to see Karen go in first and thanked her effusively. Shame the note to tell Bostock of this got stuck in the post There's bureaucracy

for you, she smiled to herself.

"Oh, I was expecting Sylvia Hollamby instead," Eric Bostock's monotone expressionless voice somehow conveyed his displeasure.

"I'm sorry, didn't my note reach you to say we've swapped times as Sylvia was on the wrong shift on the time you gave her," Karen smiled. "Can't get the

staff these days."

"Well, I'd better get on with it while I'm here. Time costs money, you know."

"This is just a friendly chat," Karen asked as a polite overture.

"That's right."

"Then maybe you can clarify something for me?" Karen pursued. "Prisoner numbers go up, so does profits."

"Go on."

"There are already women in this prison who shouldn't be here. A majority of them if you ask me. So why should privatisation make this place work better

for even more of them? Frankly this is a dysfunctional system, isn't it?" Karen finished acidly her resolution to mildly reason with this bastard going

out of the window.

"Then why are you in it?" Bostock's chilly voice announcing in black and white, expect no welcoming red carpet from Lynfords for Karen Betts.

"Because I came into the system to change it but not in your way."

"Well, if there are no other questions, we'll let you know the results of the job you've applied for, Miss Betts. Any queries you have, ask your Area people.

They've got enough pen pushers to do that."

The meeting ended on a note of chilly formality and Eric Bostock started looking at his files without the usual formality of closing the interview. Might

as well shove in an application to join Al Quieeda wearing her slinkiest low cut dress than to join Lynfords, she thought.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A further mild deflation of her spirits took place. She had got further advice from the PGA and had seen Grayling and reached some sort of accommodation

with him. The line that she hammered out with him was to tell him don't pull any stunts, don't try and manipulate me and in return, she would promise not

to go out of her way to antagonise him and make his job more difficult than it was. Grayling's stony expression belied the false smile and told her that

he was playing things cool till she got her marching orders from Area to get posted God knows where. A part of this left a bitter taste in her mouth of

having to play politics with the guy but with him, Bostock and Grayling as three people united in emnity to bring her down, it wasn't worth the candle

to be overprovocative. Besides, with the Kids on Wheels presentation taking place, she ought to stay in the background, quietly look after things her side

of the wire and cross fingers.

Scene 20

"They must be raving mad," exclaimed Fenner at the weekly meeting when Karen announced the news. "Why in hell are they sticking their oar in and not let

us handle security like we've always done."

"The decision is out of my hands and Neil's also. It's an Area decision that the names of all those attending the function are positively vetted by them.

Everything else, we had better make sure runs smoothly. At the end of the day, it's about Buki's son Baxter. That is what matters." Karen said in an uncharacteristically

subdued fashion. "If you have any concerns with the arrangements that Area have made, let me know and I'll chase them up."

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At area office, Rob Kendall lounged back in his chair in one of the plushest rooms in the modern air-conditioned office suite that made the offices at Larkhall

look like something left over from the second World War. His spacious, well ordered desk was in an airy open plan office with state of the art computers

and acres of space. It all added dignity to the proceedings. He had worked hard to get where he had got to in the prison service and his present comfortable

lifestyle reflected what he felt were his just deserts out of life.

In contrast the tatty offices at the end of corridors smelling of disinfectant was the most upmarket part of the crumbling Victorian pile of Larkhall. He

had visited it once in Stubberfield's day. That was a pretty distasteful experience with a cold cup of tea served by some slapper in a short skirt and

brassy dyed hair. Of course, that visit was from before he got his present job on the Joint Implementation Team. He was kept hard at work mainly on drafting

submissions on the new Value System in the Prison Service which was pretty tricky stuff, not the sort of thing that the ignorant jailer rattling his bunch

of keys could ever understand. They had no conception of the wider vision and where the pieces in the chess set were going to be moved. That was for higher

level thinking to manage in discreet stages according to the central strategic vision. His position enabled him to work according to the directions from

the Home Office and report on his work to management meetings. He did have real headaches in his life in ensuring that his item of the agenda was given

a high enough priority and that there was a full discussion of the points at issue. The thing that preoccupied him and was a hobbyhorse of his was to update

the terminology- such thing as "Prison Service" carried all the old fashioned negative ideas that held the organisation back. The idea that he was campaigning

for was "Work Preparation Units" which carried all the positive Government ideas of enabling the inmates to be gently guided back to a work regime rather

than the negative concept of merely locking people up. Trouble was these damn places cost a fortune for the Exchequer. He was in the middle of preparing

a paper to present for the next Joint Implementation Sub Committee meeting. Just recently however, he had been involved as a side project on evaluating

Prison security.

"Is this project really appropriate for me," he sighed to the nice young lad John Edwards who had popped the folder on his desk. This appeared to be some

sort of security checklist on that Larkhall place. Terrible reputation it had with all sorts of things going on and, to be frank, the Area Director was

trying to unload it on the first private firm that was half way interested. He knew his best friend John Wilkes had the lead on that issue but because

of his past experience of security issues, the whole thing had been palmed off onto him. He decided that he was too tied up to deal with it personally

and some fresh blood ought to have a crack at the nuts and bolts which really wasn't his thing.

"Do you want to take this one on, John." He asked the fresh faced eager lad in his smart suit with razor cut creases. "Clearing this could be added to your

Personal Development Plan for next year's annual report that we discussed earlier. I'm sure you'll sort it out." Bob smiled in a friendly fashion, bestowing

his confidence on the lad.

John Edwards looked dubiously at this but thought he could sort it out. It looks a routine matter. His eyes glanced down the list and ended with the two

last names, 'N Wade, H Stewart Press reporters for Gardeners World.' It added a nice homely touch to it and it all looked straightforward enough.

"Show me a prison, show me a jail,

Show me a prisoner whose face has gone pale

And I'll show you a young man with so many reasons why

And there but for fortune, may go you or I "

Yvonne looked at the notice Mr Bostock was putting up on the wall and thought she ought to size up the enemy and see just how bad he was but did not expect

great miracles from Karen's description..

"You're Mr Bostock, aren't you." Yvonne talked to Bostock's back as he made minute adjustments for straightness as a way of blanking one of the cons.

"And you." Bostock's back replied.

"Yvonne. Yvonne Atkins."

"I've heard all about you."

"Good things I hope. Then you know I'm calling the shots round here." Yvonne replied softly to Eric Bostock who started to walk away down the wing while

Yvonne kept pace with him and maintained the conversation.

"There's one person calling the shots round here. And that's me." Bostock started to get prickly

"I meant with the cons. Got their ear. Thought a bit of friendly would help."

"Really." Bostock's monotone reply chilled the wing more than it already was.

"We've all seen you lot come and go on the wing and, to tell you the truth, we're not keen, no offence but I'd hate to see you lot spend a lot of money

doing up this place only to see it smashed to bits. Know what I mean, love." replied Yvonne who realised that subtleties were wasted on a mental brick

wall and a turned away back.

Eric Bostock's bad temper exploded at this point. Never being amenable to polite reason, the menacing threats from this gangster's moll caused his temper

to flash, especially as they threatened to trash all his spending plans he had worked in the contract bid and thereby imperilling this year's profit ratio

for the company. He had sized up how to make a killing on this place and no con was going to stand in his way.

"Now you listen to me, love. Reckon you lot have been on one long picnic but when we get here, if you so much as break wind in the wrong direction, we'll

be on you like a brickload. I'll remember your face and so will my cameras."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You've met Mr Bostock, then." Karen asked Yvonne casually.

"Ain't I just. You know I would never thought I would believe that I'd be glad to see a familiar screw. But I'd sooner have you lot than those load of shits."

Yvonne said with real feeling, even including that evil cow Bodybag. She would sooner spend the rest of her days badmouthing Bodybag if only she and her

lot would stay. Somehow the first thing in the morning sparring match already seemed to have a nostalgic feel about it, a reassurance of normality.

Karen had smiled at this and knew that Yvonne clearly meant all of them, not just herself as their relationship was an easy relaxed one born of unspoken

trust.

"You know, at least they'll be keeping one of us. Fenner. Bostock loves him." Shit, thought Yvonne. That's one bastard that might go but no such luck. The

devil looks after its own.

There was a sudden loud crash and one of the CCTV cameras pulled the bracket out of the ceiling nearly braining Mr Bostock as he was passing.

"What the hell happened? Mr Bostock, are you all right?" Karen's nursing training jumped to the fore. "All right everyone, back away from the cameras. Mr

Fenner, I want someone from the Works Department to check over those fittings and everything else those cowboys have touched."

"Those lads were working under my orders, Miss Betts. No one touches their work till a contract goes in." Mr Bostock angrily replied.

"Mr Bostock, at the present, Larkhall is not yours to own. I'm ordering a full health and safety inspection but I want to ensure that G Wing is safe first.

Di, can you get onto the Works Department to come as soon as they can and Jim, can you arrange early association so that the prisoners are clear of the

danger area." Karen rattled out the series of orders and a red faced Mr Bostock was humiliatingly sidelined.

"Oh yes, Sylvia, can you tell Neil what's happened. He should know of this and when you get back, can you help Jim."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sylvia responded with more willingness than she was used to display. Rushing around wasn't Sylvia's thing but she knew that Karen wanted her

to lay it on thick to Mr Grayling.

"Come along girls. Move" Yvonne Atkins's carrying voice called out and G wing clicked into action with precision.

"And while Larkhall prison is public, there'll be a full investigation. So this is what privatisation means," Karen's last stinging insult was the final

end to a lousy day. His long suffering wife was not to know that evening that this explained the outburst of bad temper that caused him to lay into her

that she was a lousy cook, that she couldn't cook the way his mother used to in far off Newcastle.

Scene 21

It wasn't usual, thought Helen sleepily as she cautiously felt her sleepy way down the open plan staircase, for Nikki to be up before her. After Nikki's

initial irrepressible burst of laughter which had woken Helen, Nikki was grinning broadly as she pored over the letter in her hand and pointed to the identical

buff official franked letter addressed to Helen.

"Hear this, Hel, it's the letter about the Open Day. Just listen to this."

'Larkhall Prison will be delighted to welcome ----Miss N Wade, Gardener's World correspondent -------- to the forthcoming presentation on August 12th 2003.

You need to present this letter of accreditation to the gatehouse as proof of identity for the press event. You will need to bear in mind that, as a civilian

visitor, you will be subject to the same checks as any other civilian visitor and be mindful of the rules and regulations governing the operation of this

prison. Subject to this, I hope your visit to Larkhall Prison will be rewarding and enjoyable.

I attach a map of directions, both road and rail, as to how to find the prison. Yours sincerely, Mr Squiggle p p Manager.'

Last time I got taken there, they weren't so polite. "Get in the cattle truck, dyke." That bastard at the police station said and slammed the door shut.

I remember it well." And Nikki's eyes clouded over at the memory.

"But you're a distinguished visitor now, Nikki. Times have changed. And, yes, I think I know all about the 'rules and regulations governing the operation

of the prison, and so do you. We're real experts, aren't we? And I think I'll figure out how to drive to Larkhall Prison. I'll get on the phone to Karen

and let her know." Helen's expressive face reflected all her passing emotions, the lightness of derisive glee at the same old incompetent Larkhall spirit

meekly letting in such troublemakers through the front door and a bitter irony that they knew so much more than the faceless Area official could ever know

about the reality of 'rules and regulations'. Dark shades clouded over her face, remembering bitter feelings each day of her car endlessly retreading the

same daily tracks to yet another battle with the 'Old Boys Network' at Larkhall, the monstrosity of injustice of the incarceration of a free spirit like

Nikki and their desperate struggles to both get free of the place.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sylvia had made her way to Karen's room as she did on a regular basis these days and had settled in for a cup of coffee.

"The most slovenly work he'd seen in ages, that's what the Works Department said about those cowboys. No standards, that's the matter. Neil wasn't very

happy when I reported it to him."

"I imagine Neil wasn't pleased at all," smiled Karen though she was sure that what displeased him most was that Larkhall had broken the Eleventh Commandment

'thou shalt not be found out'. Likewise, from the pursed expression that she saw on Grayling's face, Bostock most certainly had grilled him about it over

a 'business lunch.'

"I thought Mr Bostock was going to ban the Health and Safety Executive from coming in, if you ask me" Sylvia carried on in full flow to a polite Karen who

was grateful for a new ally but wished occasionally that she could be allowed to go on with her work quietly.

"Even Bostock wouldn't go that far." Karen smiled grimly. "Not recognising unions isn't illegal, to do the same to the Health and Safety Executive is and

he knows it and knows we'll blow the whistle on that."

Just then, the phone rang and Sylvia's inquisitiveness took in the broad grin on Karen's face and the way she broke off laughing at the end. "I'll look

forward to seeing you both, Helen, though I know that a lot of people here won't."

"Helen." Sylvia echoed, a horrid suspicion starting to percolate through her mind. "It can't be.."

"Sylvia, I'm Wing Governor of G Wing. And yes, Helen Stewart and Nikki Wade are in the list of guests. Area's decision to let them in but my head on the

block on this one if things go wrong. That's before they clear us all out anyway. You've always complained Joe Public isn't concerned what goes on in prisons

these days, and perhaps in the past, you're right. Helen and Nikki will help make Joe Public care. You must put these old antagonisms behind us though

I know how strongly you feel. I know Helen and Nikki will behave properly to you. Trust me, Sylvia."

Sylvia sighed at these modern times and all these cataclysmic upheavals in the solid foundation of her rigidly structured life, one after another. It didn't

come comfortable to her, with the way her mother brought her up. But if it took those two to help drive her fears away, even she'll smile nicely at Nikki

Wade.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"As you're probably aware," Karen's light official tones addressed the POs in the office. "top of the agenda is the Kids on Wheels presentation. We're expecting

Christopher Biggins any time now."

"Thought we were getting a celebrity." Fenner quipped.

"Obviously it's a press event so security is at a premium....", Karen started to say.

"Karen, have we got the list from area of visitors coming? Some of the lads are uneasy at any Tom, Dick or Harry coming traipsing round Larkhall. Can't

you get Area to pull their finger out and get us the list sharpish ?" Fenner complained in a concerned voice.

The bastard wants to insinuate that I'm to blame for not chasing this up, Karen thought resentfully. But he's right, that list should be there.

"I've been promised I'll get it first post, Jim. If I don't get it, then I'll be on their backs to FAX over a list. When I get it, I'll personally pass

it to you, Colin, on the gate."

"Word is when Bostock takes over, you're leaving," Di said, her vacant eyes looking into the distance. "Only some of us were wondering."

"We're not there yet, Di." Karen smiled tightly, wondering if God ever gave her a brain beyond trying to ensnare the next unfortunate man who came close

to her web. This smacks of cosy cosy chats with Grayling.

"No, but if you're stepping down, it's only right that we should know." Di foolishly persisted, conveying a ghastly tactlessness in appearing to want to

shovel the first load of earth on her grave while she was still alive.

"I thought I'd made my feelings clear but for the record, prisoners for profit isn't a banner I'm happy to wave." Images of revolt in Karen's short reply

shaped the metaphor straight up from her unconscious into the spoken word.

"You are leaving then," Fenner's dark shape and voice pursued the matter and not in Di's dopey ignorant tones.

"I like to know that some of us have principles. Though there are those of us who will fit right into the new regime." Karen sniped back before the meeting

was closed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the wing, the atmosphere was a mixture of keyed up excitement and playfulness. Yvonne was dressed in her favourite black leathers as almost a badge of

authority in itself. There was a playful smile on her face and her eyes were alive. She strolled casually over to the group of women who sensed her approach

before they saw her.

"Listen up. We know what we've got to do this morning. But you take your lead from me. Got it." Yvonne's last minute pep talk whittled away at the last

trace of fears amongst them.

"Are you sure this is the right way? You know how these things can spiral out of control." Babs cautious questioning voice echoed another nightmare sit

in a long time ago when the Peckham Boot Gang hijacked a peaceful sit down protest into a mayhem of smashing furniture and papers pouring down and even

Nikki's authoritative tones failed to cut through the chaos.

"Not with me in charge." Yvonne reassured them.

"It's our only chance, Babs. They won't sodding listen to us otherwise." The 2 Julies spoke with determination to Yvonne's approval. Light hearted and playful

as a rule, if the Julies were prepared to move, then it was certain that G Wing would back this one to the hilt. They eased Yvonne's very well hidden worries

that had been in her dreaming thoughts last night of what if all the others would back down at the last moment and she was left on her own feeling a right

plonker.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"'Ere, oo is this Biggles person anyway?" Tina's charmingly innocent tones resounded a little too loudly for comfort to Yvonne's ears.

"At the end of the day, he's definitely going to know who we are." Al's thick Scottish accent spoke of her will to action though to Yvonne, there was a

worryingly psychopathic undertone to it. Al has been OK recently but she used to be Maxi's murdering heavy in the past.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a constant lively restlessness and lively sense of anticipation. Celebrities, even this Biggins character, whoever he was, added a novelty to

the day. Denny had scoured through a worn out copy of "Heat" magazine and though it told you of "20 ways to tell if your lover is a liar" and had pictures

of slim expensively dressed suntanned women, this Biggins guy wasn't in it.

"Not going to bang on for ages is he Miss," she enquired of a harassed Bodybag, nursing a secret that made her a touch more nervous and therefore tetchy

than normal.

"OK, Ju, right there, got you, click click," the 2 Julies enacted celebrity dreams they read about in the magazines, wearing more makeup and, a total first

in Larkhall, decorous kneelength skirts.

Karen was hanging around casually quietly in a corner of Larkhall with a feeling of nervous excitement when Eric Mellors, the gateman, ushered a very actorish

man wearing an open necked shirt who was clearly Christopher Biggins and was loudly arguing with Eric Mellors.

Nearly all the pieces on the human game of chess were assembled. The game was about to begin.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In contrast, Colin Hedges had made his furtive way to the toilet, with his syringe, needle and spoon and a small packet of heroin. A bit of him got a kick

out of going into an obviously dangerous situation when an unknown hand could have felt his collar. The other major part of him craved for the moment when

he had tied off and one thrust of a syringe took him into the state of mind he cared most, of never being afraid, never feeling pain and feeling strong

forever even while his head lolled back against the top of the toilet cistern and his eyes stared up at the harsh electric light without blinking.

"I don't know just where I'm going

But I gonna try for the kingdom if I can

'Cause it make me feel like I'm a man

When I put a spike into my vein

And I guess that I just don't know

And I guess that I just don't know

Heroin, be the death of me

Heroin, it's my wife and it's my life

And thank God that I just don't care

And thank God that I just don't care"

After what seemed an infinity of time, the shape of the toilet door emerged out of the mist and instinct told him that he had to return to the real world.

Colin stared into the mirror and the stranger with pinned eyes, drawn face looked out of it and passed him by, unrecognised.

"Where the hell have you been, Colin." Karen snapped at him and pushed this piece of paper into his hand, the FAXed guest list. Colin stumbled off to the

front where he welcomed in with a vague smile the procession of press reporters that the No 1 had asked for.

A fresh faced Helen and Nikki kept a low profile and their hearts leapt with joy that the security guard, the one person who might have blown the whistle

on them, let them through with a smile.

Scene 22

Karen politely listened to the complaints that Christopher Biggins was making about Larkhall. To tell the truth, she had trouble in adjusting to this guy.

If all the world's a stage, this man clearly wanted more than his share of it, but that was perhaps unkind. He had a flamboyance about him that was part

of the way he made his living. In the same way that her patient and methodical nature and her genuine interest in the prisoners in her charge were the

tools of her trade. It wasn't anything personal, she decided, just the way they both were.

"Please come in," Mr Grayling's more than usually hospitable tones greeted him, eye contact in his direction, well away from her.

"Mr Grayling, our Governing Governor. This is Mr Biggins." Karen announced formally.

"Christopher." He corrected, extending his hand intruding into Grayling's fastidious sense of space.

"I take it you found us all right." Grayling ill advisedly asked.

"Twice round the ring road," Christopher Biggins loudly exclaimed. "A light roasting from Mr Mellors on the gate. What next, a strip search?"

Oh my God, what have I done, Karen groaned inwardly wondering how he would fare with the safe but potentially alarming care of Yvonne and the others. I

sense a sustained piss taking in store, Mr Biggins, a very reluctant double act and them writing the lines.

"I know it seems strange to civilians but every visitor must undergo routine checks, I'm afraid." Karen replied in soothing tones. That reminds me, I hope

in hell Helen and Nikki get on all right and don't get pulled up. For once, she prayed for lax security and, if Colin Hedges takes over, that might be

what we'll get.

"The little Hitler confiscated the entire contents of my bag. What exactly does he think I was going to do with a packet of Rennies?" Christopher Biggins

shot back in tones, heavy with sarcasm.

You don't really know the half of what goes on and you're going to get an eye opener, Karen thought but diplomatically kept her silence.

Grayling stared at him without expression. His straightjacketed buttoned up to the neck secretive persona clashed with the flamboyant actor who he pegged

straight off as gay. Must be. Wouldn't last ten seconds in this place. Nevertheless, this man was the meal ticket for him to perform on stage before the

nation's press so he must tolerate him blethering on about 'Within These walls' and Googie Withers.

"It's ever so good of you to spare the time," he started in his best sincere manner, so good that he almost believed in himself.

As the prisoners filed out into the exercise yard, Yvonne was racking her brains to work out who are the mysterious old friends that Karen hinted at that

were coming. She'd got enough on her plate anyway, to watch out how the event was going to pan out and when to make the first move. At this moment, she

was keyed up, ready for anything and as in command of herself and her surroundings as at any time in her life. Wearing her leathers helped to make herself

feel good in herself and comfortable. It went back to when she used to wear biker jackets in her teens but she'd gone a bit upmarket since then. A light

wind ruffled her hair and the sun smiled down at her. Behind her, Denny filed into place to listen to the speech in an attitude of apparent mild boredom

and the 2 Julius smiled ready to pose for any photographers who came their way.

The exercise yard was an unexpected splash of colour due to the display stand for Kids on Wheels and the festive balloons. The logo "Every single chair

shows how much we care" proclaimed the heartfelt intentions of the charity which Grayling saw as providing just the right caring image for public consumption

of the Larkhall to be, his face on the front page and his career well and truly launched.

With a practised art, Christopher Biggins took the microphone for his address to the growing throng including the attentive and eager press lenses and notebooks

at the ready held by the hardened pressmen. Yvonne, loitering near the back of the crowd of G wing prisoners, took up the best position to see everything

and be ready for action and a feeling of exhilaration swelled up inside herself. Bloody hell, that's Miss Stewart and Nikki Wade. How the Fuck did they

break their way in?

"Kids on Wheels UK want to say a very special thank you to all the women who put so much time and effort into making this machine for young Winston.."

"Lennox, that's his real name, innit" Buki called out.

"..When I spoke to the care home yesterday," Christopher Biggins carried on, past experience making subtle adjustments to his lines second nature. "they

emphasised to me just how excited the little boy is.." and Christopher Biggins recalled the shining eyes of the little boy who had been imprisoned to his

chair by his illness. "Receiving a customised chair and especially one as marvellous as this one, why it's like Christmasses and birthdays rolled into

one. I'm sure it will warm the cockles of our hearts to know that in a couple of hours, he will be racing round like a demented Damon Hill." Christopher

Biggins finished in an oratorical flourish, glancing at the vehicle which was far better than he expected it to be and genuinely impressed him.

"You tell him it was his mum's idea and tell him I love him." Buki pointed out to the press, amongst whom Nikki and Helen felt.

"Maybe a good moment for a piccy or two." Christopher Biggins said the words Grayling had been waiting for.

The event had all the atmosphere of a School Speech Day, but Helen looked with utter contempt when she saw how Grayling shamelessly took centre stage between

two very upmarket prisoners who had been the brains behind the project. He announces their transfer to an open prisoner and the slimy bastard gets his

face on the front page as the governor who made it all possible. Oh well, click, click and minister to his overblown ego but save photos till the real

action. Nikki glanced at a very bored looking Fenner, mind switched off hearing all this sentimental crap, and marvelling that, even with her shoulder

length hair, cap perched on her head and smartest outfit, he didn't spot her.

"You must be the kid's mum," Peter Thompson, the Daily Mirror correspondent spoke to the young black woman.

"Buki Lester, yeah."

"Been separated from him long." Came the automatic response.

"Only all his life."

"I can't begin to imagine what that feels like, Buki. You tell it like it is and we'll get it printed" Nikki broke in, in her gentle tones. She'd been there

but Buki was not to know.

""Kills me every day. So that's why I came up with this 'cos them at the care home won't let me see him. You don't stop loving your own flesh, do you."

Buki finished, seeing this fresh faced woman with a posh accent who seemed on the level while Nikki remembered Monica and her dead son Spencer which sent

a shiver down her soul.

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"This is the way to work the press machine." Grayling told Bostock smugly. "Private initiative, charity linked. The story writes himself."

"I'm very impressed, Neil. What's more, our investors will be. Now if we can drop the name Lynford Securities into a couple of broadsheets," Bostock replied,

visualising the jump Lynfords would take in the share index and an item to report at the next Shareholders Annual Meeting.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Christopher Biggins unwound a bit, now that his speech was over. He could circulate a bit, away from that Grayling character who somehow made his flesh

creep.

"You should be very proud of yourself, Buki. I'm absolutely sure that your son will be absolutely delighted."

"Hey Chris" a young teenager with frizzy hair bounded up to him. "Check the lights out, man, the way they flash."

"Oh well," Christopher Biggins smiled indulgently at her and sat down in the vehicle.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries

On such a full sea are we now afloat

And we must take the current when it serves

Or lose our ventures."

No greater contrast to the recent mood of affable relaxation was the cloth suddenly rammed up his mouth and the way he was whisked up the path, pushed hard

from behind with confused yelling sounds coming from behind him. Bostock and Grayling were rooted to the spot in total horror while Fenner at last saw

the two worst nightmares in female form move to the front of the press crowd with cameras at the ready and likewise couldn't believe the evidence of his

own eyes.

Scene 23

Yvonne had watched the press cluster round Buki, Grayling and the Costa Cons and timed it with precision. She gave the nod to the others in the plot and

they sprang into action. While Denny held a gag to Christopher Biggins mouth, Yvonne grabbed the back of the chair and pushed at the back of the chair

for all she was worth. The open door to the greenhouse invited the crowd to rush in and slam the door shut. Immediately they piled rows of trestle tables

and trays of plants in front of the door as a barricade.

From the outside, a startled Christopher Biggins was clearly visible in his bright orange cardigan with Denny and Al in close attendance.

Meanwhile the massed ranks of the press sensed that there was a more interesting story than a picture of the Governor posing between two posh looking elderly

prisoners. News value I think not, they had thought, especially if something turns up better and this was that something.

"All right, can you all move back inside," Karen ordered the more docile members of G Wing. "Sylvia, can you look after that with half a dozen POs while

the rest of us deal with the situation outside. Mind you, keep it cool." And Sylvia then suddenly discovered to her amazement that a quarter of her level

of her usual bluster and threats to the prisoners got double her results. She wondered why she had never tried it before.

Fenner's face was contorted with real anger, more than either Helen and Nikki had been used to for a long time. Lazy country ways had fractionally blunted

their reaction time. "All right you two, Wade and Stewart, you two are out of this prison. You don't belong here and you should never have been let in."

Fenner grabbed at Nikki's camera which had been slung round her neck by a shoulder strap and tried to pull it off her. While Nikki struggled furiously with

him, Helen stood back and blasted off shot after shot of Fenner's malevolent face and then grabbed at him from behind.

"Oy Fenner, you can't do that." Yvonne yelled out, her voice echoing round the exercise yard. "Is this the way a bastard like you is going to behave if

Lynfords take over?"

Fenner was stopped dead in his tracks when Karen whirled over, incandescent with pure anger and loathing for the man.

"Jim Fenner, take your hands off our visitor immediately or you'll be up on a disciplinary charge. You as a professional officer should know better than

to manhandle a woman like this. Don't you ever treat anyone like that from the other side of the prison walls any more than you would a prisoner in G wing

while I'm in charge."

"Break it up, Jim." Grayling called in a cold hard voice.

Fenner looked around himself wildly, then tried to rearrange his features into a suitably contrite appearance. A look of total fear came into his eyes as

he first saw Karen's angry blue eyes looking out from beneath the fair fringe that covered her forehead. He looked away from the sight only to see Helen

look at him with total loathing, rerunning in his mind a kaleidoscope of images of her, back through the past. Likewise, written over Nikki's suntanned

face was that contempt with which she had always viewed him and added to that, the fear instilled in him that this woman now wasn't someone he could put

the handcuffs on, or send down the block. She gave out that deadly aura of one who saw right through him coupled with a power on the outside that was new

and scary. Through the mists of confusion, he sensed the prisoners jeering at him and cheering the others.

"Hi Nikki, long time no see. Are you one of the paparazzi? Look here, pose for free and you can have my autograph." Julie J called out, striking a pose

as if born to it.

"Keep Fenner out of my sight, Neil. And his sidekick Bostock," Karen hissed under her breath to Grayling.

"All right Karen but I'm in charge, not you." Grayling hissed back.

"Over to you, Neil, then." Karen said, handing him the poisoned chalice.

"I hear you're batting for the other team these days, Fenner." Nikki's parting shot stopped Fenner in his tracks before he sloped off.

"What the hell are you on about, Wade." He shouted back, concentrated fury in his eyes.

"You and Grayling. Match made in heaven." Nikki's most dangerous smile wound Fenner up to near snapping point and her soft voice carried just far enough

to Yvonne's sharp ears. Fenner slunk away to join his mate Bostock. He hoped Bostock was naïve enough not to understand that one or else his best drinking

mate is going to treat him as if he has leprosy.

"Yeah that was what we were saying, Nikki." Yvonne shouted back.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the greenhouse, everyone had a sudden sense of reclaimed land, a tiny part of Larkhall where they were temporarily free. Yvonne came into her own

straightaway as the leader of the rebels and Nikki, separated only by her freedom and a pane of glass could see that it was like old times.

"Listen, ladies. A bit of respect, yeah. We've got a few complaints about the changes they want to make around here. We can't exactly lobby the local council

or have a one to one with our MP. So you're the best way of us getting out...oh yeah, plus some unexpected friends from the old days."

Christopher Biggins had got over the initial primal fear of being grabbed by a load of female hooligans and expecting to be done over. This calm dignity

and respect that Yvonne Atkins, who had introduced herself, impressed his actor's sensitivities except there was no script and he depended on noone but

himself.

"Yeah, that's Miss Stewart, our old Governing Governor out there and Nikki Wade, an old lag once equal top dog to me, bless them. They're on our side, Chris,

as part of the press."

Christopher Biggins powers of comprehension utterly gave out at this point but he trusted to the magnetic personality and honesty of this woman who had

no trappings of power as in the real world but commanded with the force of her integrity. His heart warmed to her.

Conscious of the malevolent stares of Fenner and Bostock expecting him to do something, Grayling stepped forward to the centre stage, conscious of the click

click of cameras in the background, as it were, tapping on his back.

"All right, Atkins. You've got 14 seconds for you to explain yourselves. I want to know what this is about." Helen and Karen's eyes rolled skywards. Surely

he must know, he's caused all the trouble in the first place, he's Governing Governor, for God's sake.

"We might be locked up Grayling but we're not idiots. Privatising this place will make this place a whole lot worse. And we don't want it. And we don't

want that pillock here as our Governor." yelled Yvonne defiantly. She was pleasantly surprised to see the reporters scribble down her words in shorthand

and Nikki and Helen pressed to the front to catch the best view of her profile through the window which she swung upwards to give the best view of her.

To the reporters, she gave brilliant copy and her hawk like profile was very photogenic. In the background, the other women had a natural gift as to how

to bulk up a convincing crowd scene.

Grayling did his feeble best to offer a meaningless compromise deal which Yvonne contemptuously swept aside.

"Nobody moves till Lynford Securities drop their bid." Yvonne finished emphatically.

Karen's hardest job during all that time was to keep a straight face seeing events pan out so smoothly and seeing Grayling get so rattled and vulnerable.

Fenner had gone off sulking with that bastard Bostock after the most satisfying trial by sisterhood that she could ever dream of. The summer air ruffled

her hair and gave her more fresh air than she normally had stuck inside Larkhall.

"What do you think they're going to do next, Ju." Julie Johnson asked.

"Shitting themselves, ladies." Yvonne gleefully replied.

"We shall, we shall not be moved

We shall, we shall not be moved

Just like a tree standing by the waterside

We shall not be moved."

"Why aren't you doing anything. Why don't you clear out those troublemakers, and show some muscle." Bostock glowered to Grayling, gesturing to Nikki and

Helen and not in the direction of the greenhouse.

"Because I'd sooner sit this one out." Grayling's agitated tones replied. The successive events had broken his nerve to do anything decisive, especially

as he saw Helen Stewart looking at him with a challenging smile which had a mindlock on his weaknesses, one being his fear of a bad press. Knowledge is

power was his favourite saying but these women knew too much and that scared him the most. Right now, he wanted to do no more than play safe and pray for

a chance to come his way.

"Those two have got friends on the outside that are only too willing and able to stuff us. And the rest of the press will run the story of them being thrown

out, not Kids on Wheels, not what Lynfords can do for the Prison Service."

"Well, don't count on Lynfords the way things are going." Bostock's cold voice made a clear direct threat which unnerved Grayling further.

"Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights

Get up, stand up, don't give up the fight"

The latest gentle harmonies from the greenhouse could be heard in the exercise yard as Bob Marley's Rastafarian spirit of universal struggle blended in

with the defiant dancing women in the greenhouse, all making good copy for the press.

Scene 24

"Mr Grayling," Helen's chirpily offensive Scottish accent cut in. "We were commissioned to cover a feature of floral life in prisons. The problem is that

due to your provocative actions of exploiting a real human tragedy of Buki Lester's crippled child in a crass attempt to sell Larkhall Prison HMP to the

public, you have made it difficult to do our business as we had the greenhouse in mind. We're giving you notice that we're going in."

"My staff will be unable to guarantee your safety, Miss Stewart." Grayling said stiffly. "If you get into any trouble, be it on your head."

"I think we'll be all right, Neil. I've found in the past that prisoners can do a pretty good job of looking after themselves, don't they Nikki?" Helen's

broad smile added to Grayling's exasperation and while Nikki smiled at the memories Helen's words conjured up, Karen grinned wondering what these two mischief

makers were cooking up. Oh well, let's go with the flow, they know what they are doing. Sure as hell Grayling doesn't.

"Of course, you could be of assistance in trying to smooth this little difficulty over, you being a former Governor, then we would be most grateful, Helen."

Grayling's false smile attached itself badly to his face as he desperately clutched at straws.

"We do no deals, Grayling," Helen looked hard at him in contempt. "You know what would get the sit in called off. I've handled tougher problems in my time

than this in my time here."

"And you keep that human gorilla off us," added Nikki icily.

Stepping forward to the window, Nikki handed their expensive cameras through the window and, one by one, they slid carefully through the narrow gap and

did a sideways roll, landing on their backs .

Helen looked up at the glasshouse ceiling and the familiar faces looming up above her. She was at her most physically vulnerable yet felt no fear, only

warmth and safety amongst old friends.

"Miss Stewart, how did you and Nikki wangle your way in," Julie J's kind voice asked her.

"To do our photo commission for Gardener's World set in a prison. Who better than us?" Helen said with a big grin.

"Ere you are, try some of this jungle juice the Costa Cons have brewed up. It's good stuff." Tina chirped up, hospitably.

"Better than the plonk they serve at Claridges." A beaming, slightly wobbly Christopher Biggins reassured them. "Got a kick like a mule."

Both Nikki and Helen took a swig out of the blue Larkhall tea mugs and found the potent spirits went right into their bloodstreams. Helen's eyes lit up

as this was way better than the vodka she used to drink nightly when she worked here, or perhaps it was the good feelings of the here and now that overlay

the last bitter memories of Larkhall.

"Careful Helen. You're not that light I can carry you up to bed." Nikki

"Are you two living together then. That's cool, man." Denny's sharp ears had picked up on that one and a big grin lightened her face and made her look like

the happy go lucky teenager that Shaz knew her to be.

"Come on, photo time." Helen's bossy tones brought a bit of order to the party and the greenhouse was a flurry of activity while Grayling fidgeted in a

state of indecision and Bostock was clearly getting restive. Time was not on their side in the short run while management was made a laughing stock and

he became more and more exposed to carry the can as time went on. He was in charge and he stood to carry the can.

Time flowed on in that little bubble of freedom as they all chatted excitedly to each other catching up on old times and the naturalness that was always

at the basis of Helen's personality was there, stripped of all authority and her vivacious personality sparked against Yvonne's down to earth humour and,

in turn off Nikki's more relaxed, less edgy style. Nikki and Babs both were appreciative of Christopher Biggins Shakespearian soliloquies performed on

an improvised stage, less grand than he was used to but as meaningful to perform as anywhere. Denny, the Julies and Buki were just happy and content, if

a bit pissed.

"How are those lot getting on out there," Yvonne asked Helen.

"Five more minutes, Yvonne. They'll crack." Helen replied confidently, her once rusty jailcraft now a polished and finely honed weapon

"We're real sorry about starting off that riot with Maxi. We didn't mean to give you a load of grief. We're sorry we never said before." Al and Tina chorused

to a smiling Helen who waved that incident farewell into the past.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That's it, you can stick your prison, Neil. There's no way I can recommend my shareholders to take over this hornets nest and make it economically viable.

I'm off." Bostock final chilly tones finally buried the privatisation plan together with Grayling's dreams.

Grayling made his final appearance on stage and with his best salesman's sincere expression called for attention amongst the slightly sozzled audience.

"Guys, I've had a rethink in strategy and have an offer to put on the table. Perhaps I have been a little hasty in rushing ahead with the project to privatise

Larkhall. Perhaps it is not as compatible with the needs of the prison service than I first thought. I have an offer that the bid by Lynfords and any other

bid is dropped. In return, you have to accept that however well intentioned, you have all seriously interfered with the good order of this prison. You

will all lose 28 days of remission on your sentences and two weeks spends. In return for this, I promise that there will be no victimisation by the prison

officers. I will personally see to that. I also require an absolute promise from you all of good behaviour, no victory celebrations or else the only loser

is Larkhall. Without this last assurance in particular, this deal is off the table."

"Accept this," Helen spoke confidently to the others, recognising that this was a slap on the wrist and things could go much worse. "If you don't mind me

saying. It's your decision as I'm an outsider."

"Girls, we're walking out, like Miss Stewart says and we'll accept Grayling's deal. Yeah?" Yvonne decided straightaway. "And Nikki and Helen," Yvonne spoke

in a much softer, more affectionate tone. "You can come here and interfere any time you want. Sometime, somewhere, we'll all be thinking of you."

Yvonne had had a revelation. Strange that she had never really known Helen Stewart before though she had known her as her jailer for years.

"You know Nikki and I have jobs and lives outside Larkhall and there are limits on what we can do...but I'll be in regular touch with Karen."

And they trooped out, nervously looking around between the two lines of stony faced POs hemming them in on each side, but Yvonne caught the brief smile

on Karen's face before it reverted to her usual impassive expression.

Scene 25

It was impossible for Fenner to even guess at the concentrated fury and humiliation that he felt that terrible day. He had gone on an alcoholic bender of

large proportions for him and shouted and raved and boasted drunkenly in the local pub while more nervous drinkers kept to the edges, frightened by the

vibes coming off him as an out of control dangerous headcase. They tried to avoid eye contact with the man in case he picked on them. The fact that he

had no reason to start trouble with them was irrelevant.

When he got up the morning after, feeling numb and hungover, he slipped on his prison officer's uniform and stared at himself in the mirror. A sweaty face

with angry eyes, unshaven, looking hungover stared back at him, and dressed after all these sodding years, in his hated bloody pissing uniform and all

the seething anger in him came boiling out. It was all those bloody scheming vindictive women who were responsible, Stewart and Wade who didn't belong

there and were out to get him. And Grayling, frightened of his own shadow and scared shitless about ordering the lads to get the riot gear on and sort

out that rabble for once and for all. So what if Wade and Stewart got roughed up with the rest of them? Serve them right for sticking their nose in where

they weren't wanted. And that Atkins woman and all the other rabble were laughing at him. Suddenly he picked up a hard object and hurled it at the mirror

for all he was worth, splintering it into shards of glass that tinkled down onto the ground. The fractured jagged chunks that were still left sticking

to the wall were, as if frosted over so that he couldn't see. Never liked mirrors anyway.

"I can see her coming

And she sure looks pretty

Her breasts are bold and her mouth is large

She wants to get me

She wants to hurt me

She wants to bring me down

But sometime later when I feel a little straighter

I will come across a stranger

Who'll remind me of the danger

And then I'll run him over

Pretty smart on my part

Find my way home in the dark"

And Karen 'politically correct' Betts comes over to join that coven of women and gives him a bollocking before all the lads making him feel ten inches tall.

She was the bitch who engineered this all to get in the way of a job that, by rights, should have been his years ago. Eric Osborne his old Wing Governor

had been grooming him for promotion, coached him in his round of golf and knew how to drink like a man went and retired and before he knew it, the Home

Office appointed this young upstart Stewart in his place. His mind was made up. He has to get rid of Betts before she gets rid of him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grayling had slunk into work and was wearily looking through the morning's post after the disaster the other day. How was he going to explain this one to

Area? It was so unfair as everything was going smooth as clockwork till a load of dangerous women hijacked the event. He buried his head in his hands.

There was a hesitant double knock at the door and the most unwelcome sight of Di Grayling poked her head rashly round the corner.

"It's all right, love." She spoke in the sort of overdone mumsy fussing tones that made him want to crawl back inside his own skin. "It's not the end of

the world, what happened yesterday. Every cloud has a silver lining. I'll get a bottle of wine in, we'll have an early finish and cosy up together." And

Di touched his hand which shot back as if he were electrocuted.

After another bout of tears and tantrums before Di stomped out of the room, Grayling reached desperately for some comfort and found it in the thought of

Tony that he'd met last night. Definitely an evening out with him was preferable to a night in with Di.

He opened a "private and confidential" letter in his in tray and that only brought on an extra special headache

"Dear Neil

I wanted to write to you to congratulate you, once again, about your splendid idea for the forthcoming 'Kids On Wheels UK' charity launch presented by Christopher

Biggins in conjunction with Lynford Securities. I enclose a copy of the guest list which I hope has reached you in time and, to make especially sure that

we at Area have played our full part in ensuring the success of the event, I have FAXed over a copy of the list.

Between ourselves, the recent publicity for the Prison Service has been rather mixed especially with unfounded rumours circulated by isolated malcontents

within the prison Service and the Trade Unions about Lynfords. We are counting on you to ensure that the press launch will squash these rumours and establish

in the public eye exactly what Lynfords can do to bolster up the Prison Service. We at Area have always noticed your real flair for handling publicity

and have every confidence in the successful outcome of the presentation.

Don't hesitate to send us what press cuttings you can obtain locally and phone me up to let us know how you have got on so I can hear the good news personally.

Yours sincerely

John Wilkes

All Grayling could do was groan at the hideous inappropriateness of the letter, dated only a day before the Christopher Biggins disaster. What does he say

to Area now? He grabbed for a packet of Cocodimol tablets he kept in his drawer and a glass of water.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Helen was stretched out on a recliner in the back garden with a sheaf of daily papers on her lap back home in the mountains of Wales. Nikki smiled as she

brought out two hot mugs of coffee. She kneeled down, leaning her chin over Helen's shoulder and wrapped her arms round her from behind. It gave her a

real buzz, reading about the news that they were an intimate part of and, for once not with dread when reading Crystal's ill judged letter to the Guardian.

'PRISON SELL OFF BLOCKED BY DARING PRISONER'S SIT IN' was the triumphant headline in the Daily Mirror running a breathless story which showed Yvonne's profile

to the best advantage on Page 1. The story started, Helen was pleased, giving a brief account of Buki's disabled child and moved on to expose 'Lynfords

for cynically exploiting it for their own ends.' Helen and Nikki were relieved to read this as afterwards, they had misgivings that the very real human

tragedy and the efforts made by the prisoners will have been pushed out of the headlines by the more eyecatching action stuff. Yvonne was quoted in saying

"Nobody moves till Lynford Securities drop their bid."

The article referred to one of the Prison Officers manhandling one of the freelance journalists present and Yvonne Atkins comment. "Is this the way a bastard

like you is going to behave if Lynfords take over?" A senior official of the Home Office was asked for an interview but he declined to comment.

The article finished with a superb quote from Christopher Biggins who commented that 'I was a bit alarmed when I was first grabbed and wheeled into the

greenhouse but I think that they are all splendid caring women whatever the reasons they were imprisoned and Lynford Securities are the only people who

profit from crime."

"Ah, they didn't get a picture of us, Nikki." Helen said with a mock downcast look.

Nikki grinned. "I bet Yvonne is on cloud 9, and Karen also and those bastards are kicking themselves. Still we got some good pictures for our feature and

some pictures of Fenner that will come in handy. Are you going to phone Karen or do you want me to?" she gleefully replied.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How you're keeping, Miss Betts. You look happy with yourself today," Julie J smiled knowingly at Karen whose very posture betrayed a lightness of spirit

and a holiday spirit about her.

"Let's just say, Julie, that I've had a bit of good news. How's things with you and Julie Saunders."

"Oh, can't complain, Miss. You know how it is, only I'm dying for a fag, having lost my weekly spends. Still, it's a chance to give up" Julie J's smile

widened and she strolled over.

Karen sighed. She owed these women so much for sticking their necks on the line and, though she knew word would get about, she discreetly slipped Julie

J a few cigarettes.

"Thanks, Miss. You're a star."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You conniving bitch," hissed Fenner's voice two seconds later in the PO's room. "You and Yvonne. All girls together. The whole sodding sisterhood."

"Careful, Fenner." Karen coolly replied. "You nearly ended up on the front pages of the paper instead of Neil." And Karen unfolded the front page spread

of the Mirror and pinned it up on the notice board. "Good news, isn't it? Our jobs are safe now."

"Well, since you are acting as Voice of the People, I'm resigning from the POA. Your little escapade will have cost the union quite a few members around

here. Your General secretary won't be quite so pleased with his latest star recruit." And Fenner thrust his union card and a scrawled letter of resignation

into her hand.

"Actually, Jim, the General Secretary is female. And, for the record," Karen replied feeling glacially calm and thoroughly in command of the debate, "It's

bad enough to share the same human race as you, still more the same workplace but I'm bloody well not going to share membership of a trade union with you.

You're just an opportunist, out for what you can get out of the POA to save your skin when it suits you. So don't pull the 'old soldier' stuff with me,

Jim Fenner. And talking about resignations," and here Karen spoke very softly and looked at her most deceptively innocent. "While you're writing out one

letter of resignation, couldn't you write out the other letter of resignation while you're in the mood. Don't worry, Larkhall won't collapse without you"

The fact that Fenner stomped off without saying a word lifted Karen's spirits. It wasn't every day that he was speechless for words.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Yvonne entered the wing a footfall cheer of a winning team started up but Yvonne cut it short.

"Listen up, girls. You heard what was agreed yesterday in the greenhouse. No victory celebrations. Keep it quiet and keep everything peaceful. Just a normal

day in Larkhall."

Sylvia was pleasantly surprised how the other prisoners shut up straightaway. She had heard what had happened from Karen who advised her, play it cool and

everything would be all right. A part of her thought, 'give the prisoners half an inch and they will take a mile' but she was pleasantly disappointed.

When she thought later about it, the mundane boring filing job would be under the safety and security of the Home Office. The black nightmare of having

to uproot herself at her time of life and be shoved into some other prison, if it would have her, was banished and she was aware of the sunlight shining

in through the high glass domed roof which she'd never noticed before. Sylvia smiled, a rare occurrence, when Yvonne crossed her path on the way to the

metal staircase.

Yvonne had gone back to her cell to rest on her bed a bit. She was getting a bit of a kickback from the adrenaline rush of the events of yesterday and had

hardly slept that night as she found it impossible to come down off that total high.

"Morning, Yvonne. Feeling better after yesterday." And Karen's face broke into a smile, exposing her even white teeth and her blue eyes lit up from within

and subtly dropping the Wing Governor guise. In Yvonne's eyes, Betts was always on the level but she had only once seen her apart from the uniform she

wore and the constraints it imposed on her and that was at the pub, as another mother with her head screwed on her shoulders. Now Yvonne could see her

simply as another woman, radiantly happy within herself.

Yvonne's smile was much more relaxed than Karen was used to seeing. The poker player felt free to show her hand as it was safe to.

"I was wondering, Yvonne, if you wanted to take the opportunity of visiting Ritchie in hospital. I can arrange it. He's on the mend and in good spirits

so I hear."

"He'll be bleeding fine till he sees me." Yvonne said a bit downcast.

"And after that, we go over to the pub, same as went to last time, that is, if you are willing. We'll be able to talk properly over there." Karen said softly

in an understated tone.

"So long as you aren't putting your head on the chopping block over this." Yvonne replied grateful to the woman who had pushed it as far as she could against

the likes of Grayling and Bostock. Being grateful to another human being for unadulterated acts of generosity was new to her as she was the one with power

over her life and others and she had grown up in a cut-throat world. This was a new experience for her.

"So that means I get another date with you then." Karen said softly with an indefinable expression in her voice.


	3. Part Three

DISCLAIMER: All the characters used within this story are the property of Shed Productions. I am using them solely to explore my creative ability.

ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

SPOILRERS: Up to series 5.

It Ain't Me Babe

An Alternative series 5 Karen / Yvonne Tribute

By

Richard

Scene 26

"So it's you, Mum. What's brought you here this time." Ritchie sneered to Yvonne, just as, before she and Karen approached him, he had been laughing and

joking with the nurse.

"Believe it or not, Ritchie," Karen interrupted seeing Yvonne's confusion. "You have a mother who actually cares about you. Not that you exactly deserve

it. I've got a son of my own and I got over the guilt trip a long time ago, of thinking I was an inadequate mum, working all hours, never there for him.

Never had time to wipe his nappy, did I...even when he was fourteen years old. You want to be treated like a man, you act like one. You have to face up

to yourself, what you should have done but didn't, what you did but shouldn't, what you did right in your life. Go on take a look at yourself and ask yourself

if you've got the right to point the finger." Karen finished coldly. It was easy dealing with another mother's son drilling Ritchie right through the eyes

with her deliberately phrased words and her unwavering eyes looking into Ritchie's shifty eyes flitting all over the place. You weren't so emotionally

involved and you could see things more clearly. Her own son still tried it on and despite all her strong words, he still had the knack of making her feel

uneasy and uncomfortable.

Ritchie, for his part lay on his bed, feeling vulnerable, as two strong women were leaning over him from a position of height. He could not look Karen Betts

in the eye, the plaything he had screwed without thinking, the nurse figure that had unaccountably saved his life and the strong woman who was now coldly

rejecting him. But his mouth was tight shut and far too proud to let the words 'sorry' out of his mouth. That wasn't being an Atkins, the shades of his

father still pulled the invisible threads on him. Also a new puppet mistress, the remembered voice of Snowball whispered in his ears at night. Somehow

she would never let him go and somehow, he didn't want her to.

"So how are you getting on, Ritchie." A real maternal tenderness infused Yvonne's huskier tone of voice with a real eagerness for Ritchie to be on his feet

even though she had put him in the hospital bed. "I really want more than anything else does for you to be on your feet. What ever happened before. There's

a future for us."

"Not while Snowball's dead, Mum." Ritchie's cold voice rejected her.

"Looks like you're getting over her pretty well to me, Ritchie. You've got quite a fan club amongst the nurses while you play the martyred wounded hero

. Pity that the only sort of person who going to make it with me for the future, has got to be strong and honest. That lets you out, Ritchie. That's not

to say I won't help out as Wing Governor.. but on my terms." Karen finished hitting a definite note.

"At some time, Ritchie, you've got to talk and own up." Yvonne finished softly, defeated but not bowed down.

"Visiting time's over." Politely called the nurse, giving them both the release from their duty.

"Come on, Yvonne, let's head for the pub. We've done and said all we can for now."

Without resisting, Yvonne escaped out of the dim artificial light and miles of aisles and into the bright sunlight and the busy streets.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I want to ask you how do you reckon the best way to finish Fenner, Yvonne." Karen cut to the chase after a swig of her drink straight after they were served.

"I mean permanently."

"You mean hire a hitman? I thought you screws did things strictly legit." Yvonne raised her eyebrows quizzically. Karen was showing some unforeseen facets

of her personality but this was not just dodging a few rules, unusual for Karen, but throwing the bleeding book out the window.

"Of course not, Yvonne." Karen laughed that attractive laugh of hers. "I mean in all of Fenner's murky squalid career can we find something that we can

get the mud will stick and will drive him out the Prison Service, completely, for all time, well away from locking up women for a living, if you don't

mind me putting it that way."

Karen finished the last words with a touch of embarrassment, not at the thought of talking about such a matter freely in front of a prisoner but only as

she suddenly recalled the abstract idea of being locked up still applied to Yvonne.

Yvonne smiled reassuringly at Karen's transparently open confiding in her and asking her opinion. A silence descended all around except the distant sounds

of glasses clinking and barroom talk while Yvonne's expression became contemplative as she searched her vast memory very carefully going right back through

the mists of time to when she first came here.

"How well do you get on with Miss Stewart, I mean Helen these days?" Yvonne said very slowly.

"Just fine," Karen said promptly. "We had a good talk and cleared the air. She's living with Nikki Wade these days, though I suppose you know that one."

"What about that time he was running O'Kane's knocking shops and taking a slice of the earnings. Don't suppose living off immoral earnings looks very good

in the eyes of the Home Office, Karen, does it? He'll be queuing up down the dole for a good few years after being thrown out of the Prison Service like

that" Yvonne finished with a satisfied leer on her face.

"Nice try, Yvonne, but I went through his bank account with a fine tooth comb as he'd been chucking a lot of money around at that time. Everything checked."

Karen's initial bright expression lapsed into more sombre mood.

"How do you know he hasn't a second account, Karen? Charlie had a string of accounts all over London to launder the money. Only difference between Charlie

and Fenner is that he was honest about being a crook, if you see what I mean." Karen smiled and puffed at another cigarette. Those little turns of phrases

of Yvonne's were very endearing and spoke of her straight in the eye way of looking at the world.

"We need more than this, Yvonne.," she said finally. "All Virginia O'Kane's effects went back to the Home Office and God knows where after that. That's

outside my field."

"You could ask them like casual, Karen." Yvonne said persuasively and Karen nodded at this. Once pull at a thread in a tangle like this, who knows what

comes out.

"Well, as I'm here, I suppose I am to congratulate you in trying to make an honest man like Colin Hedges. He needs a strong woman behind him." Karen said

with an artificial edge to it. "He's not so bad as a PO, a bit scared of Fenner but he seems to be going more on the right lines than going on Fenner's

pornfests."

"More like a nanny and a rehab councillor." Yvonne snorted with exasperation. "He's a smackhead and, like they say, once a smackhead, always a smackhead."

"Wait a minute, Yvonne, you are really saying that Colin Hedges, one of my officers is bringing heroin, a Class A drug, into an establishment which he is

supposed to be employed to preventing just such a thing?" Karen Betts Wing Governor, spoke in very sharp precise tones sweeping a lock of hair back from

her face with her hand.

Yvonne was taken aback, used to the loose distinction between prison officer and prisoner which Karen's official tones brought back into sharp relief. She

was about to take offence when she saw the fear lurking in her eyes and her feelings turned to understanding and sympathy. Never before in her life had

she blabbed information to anyone about anyone she knew. The 'don't grass' ethic went back to when she was at school and teacher never did get to hear

what she'd been up to or any of her friends. She spoke those words so casually without thinking when her defences were down and she was at her most open

and relaxed. This time she knew she had done the right thing.

"You're afraid, Karen. I can tell that a mile off." Yvonne said softly, reaching out for Karen's hand.

Karen had been staring sightlessly into a nightmare vision only she could see, clutched on tightly to Yvonne's hand and a small smile showed that the blind

panic was ebbing. Yvonne could see the sweat on Karen's face and if she was scared, anyone else would be bleeding wetting themselves.

"I'll have to see Colin Hedges first thing tomorrow and he'll be out of the prison service. I'll do it, I'll have to do it. Don't even think of trying to

talk me out of this one, Yvonne Atkins," Karen said with her most determined voice and expression. "Though I don't think you'll even try whatever you feel

for the guy." she carried on, back to her softer more leisurely tones. "There's reason enough to play the executioner and I hate the idea of doing it but

I've got to do it. I'm worried Fenner or anyone knows already and will get in first."

"Don't worry, I'll get over him quick enough. It's becoming a habit." Yvonne said with a chill in her voice. Anyway, Karen's words had lit in an illuminated

flash what had been churning round in her mind for a long time. It was the right thing to do. She didn't even think to consider Karen was saving her own

neck, as she knew better than that, now.

"Well, Yvonne," Karen said starting to stroke Yvonne's hand gently. "We've time enough for another drink or two. We've done business. Might as well enjoy

ourselves now."

Yvonne smiled feeling the warm sunlit dreaminess of the afternoon pour down on them and let things flow while Karen bought in the drinks. She shook her

head wondering if what was happening was real. If this is a dream, then right now she wanted to carry on sleeping.

Scene 27

It was not often that Yvonne could let down that mental guard which prompted her to be on the alert at all times for the unexpected and protective of anyone

who came under that very real mothering umbrella of hers but now, blissfully, was the time she could let go. With Ritchie put out of her mind then long

distance guilty mum could be fade into the background and Yvonne, the human being with her own needs and feelings, could breathe freely. She hadn't known

that feeling for a lifetime and the freedom to be suspended purely in the present. She looked directly into the sunlight and into her dreams came a memory

of Nikki's hand on her shoulder and her brown eyes mockingly telling her that "if you're desperate for it, find someone the same side of the wire. No one

will bat an eyelid. Lot easier and you won't end up down the block."

"You're joking? Turn lezzie? Urrgh I'd sooner shag bleeding Fenner first." She remembered Nikki said that for laughs in that matey style of hers knowing

how Yvonne would react. Yes she had said that at the time.

Yvonne blinked her eyes and can that be Karen coming in her direction out of the mists of the past as firm, sometimes hostile Wing Governor to the present

as the smiling faced attractive woman approaching her with a couple of glasses of vodka and lemon and offering her one of them? Karen for her part was

quite certain in her mind that she had choices in her life and what had appeared to her as choices, her attraction for Fenner and break-up with him, her

impulse to duck out of Di's hen night to spend the night with Ritchie was only rerunning the same accident. Life didn't have to be that way and, at that

moment, Yvonne stood out in sharp relief in comparison with the grey figures around her that scurried their way in the same rat trap she was stuck in.

Even in Larkhall, she had become sharply conscious of Yvonne's movements out of the corner of her eye while the vacant face of Di speaking to her of what

she'd read in the magazines sometimes washed over her so that her voice replied automatically without connecting with the brain. Now as she approached

the pub table where Yvonne sat sleepily bathing in the sunshine, she was more conscious of her than ever. The sun illuminated strands of her spiky hairstyle

into golden and the smile on her face was gentle.

"To us," Karen clinked Yvonne's glass without either of them being totally sure of what they were getting at.

"To us?" Yvonne repeated, the words spoken slowly and hanging on the air. Then she smiled and shook her head in wonderment. "At one time, Karen Betts, if

you'd ever asked me if we would have ended up even being on the same side, I would have told you that you do bleeding good stand up comedy.." finishing

on a gentler version of the familiar spiky abrasive Atkins humour that was now part of the occasional affectionate gentle teasing both of them were now

used to from each other.

"But times have changed, haven't they." Karen's soft mellow tones spoke persuasively. She was as certain of herself while suspended in the present.

"Except at night time. You wouldn't know what it's like, Karen, being alone in a single cell, narrow bed and thin sheets how much you unbelievably miss

being held by your nearest and dearest next to you." Yvonne sighed reflectively. As she spoke she felt long forgotten heightened feelings that she couldn't

for the life of her define except that it felt good and that she felt more alive than she had for weeks. Everything around her faded into the background,

the bar chatter, the people passing back and forth except for Karen who seemed blessed by the sun. The usual workaday nightly feelings of emotional loneliness

that the Atkins spirit couldn't block off seemed like an account of a stranger she had read in a magazine. As for Colin Hedges, he was part of a chapter

in her life that she had folded down the last page on.

"I don't feel much different on the outside. OK, you're locked up and I've got choices you haven't got. I'd be an insensitive cow to you if I whinge on

about being a single middle aged career woman who really doesn't like to drag herself down to the local meat market in some club or disco, dressing up,

thinking tonight will change my life and I'll get Mr Right. I've done my share of that when I was younger.. and look where I've ended up."

"An attractive good looking woman like you.? You've got everything going for you." Yvonne smiled, wondering how in hell Karen with her looks would have

any problems that way. From studying Karen right now, anyone would find her fanciable. She hadn't thought of that before but it was more obvious to her

than it had ever been how she found how attractive Karen was.

"Tonight we'll find a dune that's ours

And softly she will speak the stars

Until sun up

It's all from having some one knowing

Just which way your head is blowing

Who's always warm like in the morning

In Coconut Grove"

Karen smiled and blushed at the compliment and, this time, Yvonne leaned forward to take Karen's hand in hers without thinking.

"You've only a month or so in prison, Yvonne. Have you thought where you'll go when you're out." Karen asked Yvonne who was holding her hand.

Yvonne stared sightlessly, trying to take in the idea when every instinct in her said don't bloody count on it till the prison gates shut for the last time

with her on the far side and the likes of Fenner had no power over her life.

"I'll miss you not being around..." Karen started to say and the look of real regret and tenderness in her eyes was a moment Yvonne came to relive many

times alone in her cell at night. Suddenly there came a jangling unwelcome disturbance when Karen's mobile phone rang loudly.

Sighing with annoyance, Karen picked up the phone and Yvonne heard Karen's barely restrained patience and smiled at the slight embroidery on the truth for

Fenner's benefit.

"Yes, Jim, I'm having a quick drink in the hospital canteen while Yvonne Atkins is waiting for a fresh appointment time to see her son..Yes, hospitals have

their procedures as well I know from working in one...it's nice to know, Jim, that G Wing is likely to collapse if I'm not there, I really feel valued

by you." And Yvonne stuffed her hand against her mouth in case she started giggling and giving the game away. "...and yes, we'll be back in an hour at

the most and I'll deal with whatever problem you can't handle."

"We can't keep meeting like this, Karen." Yvonne smiled broadly.

"We bloody well will, Remember, I'm Wing Governor." was Karen's blunt rejoinder. "Now I know the problems Helen had in trying to get some time alone with

Nikki... and I was once the innocent gatecrasher." The words came to her lips, spoken very softly, without her conscious thoughts framing her words, but

not too softly for Yvonne's sharp ears.

As they both made a move from the pub to the outside world, Karen turned round to look for Yvonne who suddenly put her arms rather stiffly and awkwardly

round Karen and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Nothing that would raise eyebrows in these touchy, touchy, feely, feely days, she thought, suddenly

feeling inhibited realising the world around her.

"Thanks for the date....darling." Yvonne spoke and smiled a little awkwardly.

"Anytime, Yvonne....darling." Karen smiled back more easily.

As they both left the pub, and were driven back in a taxi, somehow they both knew that a line had been crossed, dreamily, casually but none the less decisively

for all that.

Scene 28

Helen spread out on the old varnished oak table a sequence of blown up black and white photos that she had reprinted of one very permanent reminder of their

visit to Larkhall. They were still faintly damp from recent developing. They showed startling split second jumps in time of Fenner face contorted with

rage at the point he saw Nikki with the camera. Looked at in the calm light of day, they betrayed him freaking out as Nikki dared to freeze undeniably

for all time the real Jim Fenner with all his layers of assumed personality stripped bare. That must have enraged him more than the put downs both had

given him over the years.

"Hey, Helen, just look at the new dart board I've made. More interesting than the usual kind." Nikki said, bringing in the usual circular object under her

arm. "Da daaaah." And she brandished it for Helen to see who promptly fell about laughing.

Nikki had taken an old dartboard, removed the pattern of metal dividers, neatly inserted a circular shape of Fenner's face taken from the original and blown

up to size and reassembled it.

Helen grabbed a set of darts while Nikki pinned it on the shed door.

"Bags I go first Nikki." Helen laughed as she carefully aligned her first dart for trajectory. "One dart, right up Fenner's left nostril and I score a bulls

eye."

"You wish." smiled Nikki who, having knocked about a bit had perfected the art of dart throwing.

The dart sailed through the ear but swerved to the left and impaled Fenner's left earlobe.

"Useless, Helen. Watch the expert do it."

And Nikki's dart, with her practised eye and position, sailed gracefully through the air and landed with a perfect bull's eye right in the black hole.

"You don't mind, Hel, having these displays of your worst enemy plastered all round the house," Nikki asked softly, with real concern.

"Got to do something positive with them, Nik." Helen smiled. "If only Larkhall had grown a collection of Venus fly traps, those plants with snares that

trap flies and drown them, we would have a perfect theme to add into the commission. Using his image to make fun of him is next best thing, and good therapy...

not that the Christopher Biggins demonstration didn't do a lot that way to make a figure of fun of him"

"Hello." Nikki's sharp ears heard a gentle rat tat of the door. "Someone for us."

Eyes blinking at going into the relative darkness of the house, Nikki opened the door to reveal a respectably dressed suited fair haired man of middle age

carrying a leather briefcase and with a shy manner.

"My name is John Lambert." He said in a polite educated tone. His very manner spoke of a city gentleman of the old school, in a style older than his age.

"I know that I am unknown to both of you but I have indirect links with your past and talking to each other will, I hope, be of benefit to both of us."

Nikki ushered him in, politely to the visitor's chair into which he sank and balanced his briefcase on his knees.

"Are you, Helen Stewart," the stranger asked, guessing correctly, to which Helen nodded assent. "You may well remember my sister Virginia Lambert, or Virginia

O' Kane when she married the manager of the first house of ill repute that she came to manage."

Helen's eyes lit up at this and her mind whizzed back to the languid upper class tones and bunches of flowers of the very scheming calculating woman whom

she was shocked at the way she exploited a non existent disability to wrap both prisoners and Prison Officers round her elegant little finger. Karen had

filled her in on the full story of what had happened to her. Brief memories of her propping her eyelids open while parked on a dark sidestreet tucked discreetly

away from the red lit signs and discreet front door.

The rest of John Lambert's story threaded its way in two lines of thought whizzing through her mind of the last traumatic weeks of events whirling round

and round in a relentless spiral with Fenner, as if in a dance of death, in a single minded desire to nail him for good. Threaded in with this was Virginia

O'Kane's story, of the talented younger sister who was headed for the usual marriage into respectability into the country houses in Esher, suddenly dumping

her fiancée and heading to the fascinating city lights of London where she hung round with what their parents said stuffily was the "wrong crowd."

He made no attempt to hold back strong feelings of resentment of his sister as she had grown up in her teens to be the spoiled favourite but deeper below

family ties remained that she was his sister no matter how badly she behaved, as it usually was. Years later, she popped back more into his life when she

was established with lots of money to flaunt before their admiring parents. They blinded themselves to the dubious source of that money. In her skittish

way, she popped up from time to time to drop in on his town house and he made a rule never to part with money to her.

"John darling, lend me a tenner. You know, I'll pay you back like I always do."

He learnt to smile politely and tell her that the first time she visited him with no ulterior purpose, he would trust her more when she went into a tempestuous

rage at yet another of his refusals. Time after time, he stonewalled her requests, the only man who could successfully do so.

"Finally, I got a letter from Virginia to say that she had gone to prison. I've got the one letter I ever received from her and I thought I'd show it to

you.

..... John, darling, the conditions are so frightful here what with the most priggish stuck up Prison Managers or whatever they call themselves with their

little tinpot titles and badges..Miss Betts is one of the worst with her ridiculous rules and regulations and refusing to do the teensiest bit to make

life even a half way tolerable for me with this unfortunate disability..I can't move anywhere without being pushed and pulled in and out of bed by those

mental defectives like the Two Trudies who used to work for me...isn't there any way you could pull a few strings for me with your respectable job, I'm

sure they would listen to you...as for Miss Stewart, she is a humourless prig who is even more of a jobsworth in her uniform than Miss Betts and that is

saying something.....my only lifeline around here is that nice Jim Fenner who is such a miracle worker..after being caught out by those jack booted policemen

who behaved just like the German Gestapo when they raided my little money earners, I'm totally stony broke with having to beg from this ridiculous spends

programme, no Channel 23 behind the counter, so uncivilised you know, unless you can slip me some dosh through the post when that Betts woman isn't looking....This

is only till this Thursday when that nice Jim Fenner has got the money starting to roll in again....

Your ever loving sister

Virginia."

"You must understand, Miss Stewart," John Lambert smiling for the first time, "In my sister's eyes, bad is good and good is bad. For her to have been so

exceptionally rude and insulting to you both means you were doing the right thing. For her to have showered this Jim Fenner with compliments means that

he is as big a criminal as my sister is, bigger as he is put in a position of responsibility."

The dry mostly unemotional way in which John Lambert spoke gripped both Helen's and Nikki's attention, firing up in them a totally dormant feeling of exhilaration

and joy driven by a feeling that justice that was denied was in their reach. And of course, unlike Virginia O' Kane's time at Larkhall they were together

and could pool what they knew and most of all, Karen Betts was on their side this time around.

"There is more to tell," John pressed on, unfastening his briefcase and bringing out a set of bank statements. "I have here left to me as next of kin, the

bank statements of my sister's err..brothels." John Lambert said with some distaste. "These all came to me through probate as next of kin, my parents having

died recently. Just take a look at the sums of money being paid into the account," and Helen and Nikki looked incredulously at the thousands of money pouring

into the account. "Just here, everything stops. That was the point that my sister was taken into custody, brought to court and charged. You can see that,

while there is a lot of money held in the account, nothing is moving in or out of the account." spoke John Lambert, necessarily dispassionately, though

aware as they were all, of the human degradation that lay at the bottom of the facts and figures.."Yet, just here, every month or so from then on, big

sums paid in again at a time that Virginia is in Larkhall, see the date on her letter and nothing paid out. My question is, who was paying in the money

and why."

Both Nikki and Helen's feelings had leaped to an indescribable peak of jubilation even while the mathematical trail was followed of Fenner's murky dealings.

Who else could it be? Ghosts would come back from his past to haunt him. They knew it but for once, Jim bloody Fenner is blissfully ignorant of this.

"We'd better phone Karen for a start." Nikki said shortly. "We've got unfinished business."

The proposition was short and simple but a trace of fear underlay their feelings at this point in just what they were choosing to let themselves in for.

Scene 9

Karen was reading a recent very special issue of "Gardener's World" and smiling to herself as the Saturday morning sunlight warmed the rather severe, overfunctional

flat with glowing colours. It wasn't her choice of magazine as plants had a habit in the past of dying on her but this issue featured a rather glamorously

dressed and made up Julie J in a fairly floral blouse set artistically against the scenery of the Larkhall prison greenhouse. Likewise, a photo of a commanding

stern leather clad Yvonne Atkins set against a more stark background gave her a sudden warm satisfied feeling inside. The article had made her think fondly

of all her friends, close and far away, and dissipated the memory of the darker mood of the night before when she had, unwisely, had an evening in working

on her files. Still more were her eyes riveted on the photo of the woman dressed in black. She accepted as natural that she often wondered what Yvonne

might be doing, remembering stray scraps of snatched conversation and definite feelings inside of her which she was not scared to own up to even if she

was hesitant to put a name to.

It was only when the knocking, loud to begin with increased to the loudness of the Met police on a dawn raid that Karen's concentration was broken and she

opened the door. A very excitable Nikki and Helen almost tumbled in and performed an impromptu dance of joy before Karen's serene, "go with the flow" all

accepting amusement.

"Hey Karen, we've got some good news, I mean brilliant news." Helen chimed in first, her eyes all alight. "By the way this is Nikki Wade....."

"I think we've met before, Nikki." Karen grinned causing Nikki to collapse with laughter.

"How would you fancy the prospect of helping to finally see the back of Fenner, I mean completely and totally."

Karen couldn't believe her ears but knew of old that Helen was the last person to make extravagant claims but invited them to tell her more and Helen launched

into a rapid concise account of what John Lambert had told them and placed the bank statements before Karen's incredulous eyes.

"The lying bastard..." Karen started to say.

"You mean more so than usual, Karen?" Nikki's cool voice broke in sardonically and instinctively and naturally left behind the "Miss Betts" tag of old.

"No, I mean, the dates, look at the dates you two." Karen broke in excitedly. Her mind rapidly took her back to those cotton wool, deluded days when she

had lived with Jim Fenner.

"Sorry, Karen," he had said with regret in his eyes. "Rules is rules and I have to go out to the Mason's do tonight. I'd be letting the Order down if I

didn't go. I've been with them since I've been a young lad and it's helped me climb up the ladder. Besides, it's a load of crap about us walking around

with one trouser leg rolled up and funny handshakes. It's charitable work helping out fellow Masons who've fallen on hard times. You can't say no to that

one Karen." His eyes looked at Karen with gentle reproach.

"All right, Jim. I'll take you up on that offer of a slap up meal you promised me. What about tomorrow night?" Karen smiled in that idiotic fawning way

that it made her sick to think of.

"And all the time he was hanging round sleazy massage parlours and smiling at and chatting up some cheap tart and raking in the money...and putting on that

ever so hurt, 'you don't trust me, Karen' look when I went through his bank accounts.."

"You did what, Karen." Nikki asked in wide eyed admiration of her incredible firmness of resolve. These were aspects of the private Karen Betts she had

never seen before, that added a whole new third dimension to the very professional two dimensional suit she had come to grudgingly respect after their

very unfortunate first introduction down the block.

"The sly bastard must have had a second account of his own, Karen." came Helen's heartfelt reply to which Karen nodded and replied. "It's just his character

for him, a secretive bastard like him."

The rapid conversation slowed to a halt while each one of them cudgelled her brains for the next step forward. They instinctively felt that there was a

long way to go before they could nail Jim Fenner.

"Let's put together what we know." Helen said in that slow deliberate tone of hers, thinking aloud. "I know from Yvonne and Lauren that Fenner was definitely

in league with Virginia O'Kane in running those brothels. The bank statements have his ugly fingerprints written all over them, stinking of greed and money

but they only take us so far in identifying him. They don't definitely identify the payee as him. I've seen him once coming out of a brothel but my evidence

is no bloody use as the immediate question I would get asked is why I didn't crucify the bastard personally, as acting Governing Governor instead of resigning.

He'd found out about Nikki and I, in case you didn't know, Karen. Thanks to Karen, we know the false alibi he used in order to be able to collect the takings

and we know where the money he stashed away will be but we can't get at it. Lauren had told me ages back that O'Kane was working with a 'John Farmer' but

that isn't enough."

Karen enjoyed the feeling of Helen's strength alongside her as in the old days and Nikki's presence added to the feeling of being borne upwards on a cushion

of good feeling.

"Ain't it good to know that you've got a friend

When people can be so cold

They'll hurt you and desert you

They'll take your soul if you let them

But don't you let them

You've got a friend."

"What about Lauren," Nikki asked. "She seems to be very resourceful from what I saw of her. Would she be able to dig up anything? I know that people move

on and the trail has long since gone cold. If we could happen on someone who can definitely put the finger on Fenner, we have him cold..and there's Yvonne,

the one person in Larkhall who knows more than me about what's going down."

The three of them agreed on that for the time being and Karen fetched glasses for a drink.

"Never too early or busy for a drink, as you will remember, Karen." Helen said, smiling at Karen, bringing forcibly back to her mind memories of the way

things were once and what might have been.

The three of them broke into light chit chat and Helen and Nikki were chatting away about country ways and the day to day trivia. There was an obvious sense

of closeness between them that Karen was hyper conscious of, like a happily married couple. It gave Karen a feeling at the back of Karen's mind how she

was very much the single career woman without any roots or ties and, right now, she wanted to be tied down to a good relationship.

"What's up, Karen." Nikki asked in her quiet way, seeing the look of sadness cross Karen's face where a second ago she was laughing and happy.

Karen blushed, a very unusual thing to happen to her.

"It's nothing." stumbled Karen, announcing that there was a real something at the back of it. "It's just that I can see you two settled and happy and I

wish I had something of what you've got."

"Isn't there anyone special in your life, Karen. Everyone needs someone like that." Helen said softly.

"There might be," Karen said, haltingly. "Though it's difficult. I'm not sure how the other person feels..."

"Who's the lucky guy, Karen? Anyone we know." Nikki's brown eyes expressed all the sympathy in the world, even if, for once, she was wide of the mark. Now

the hard defensive shell Nikki wore at Larkhall was no longer needed, she was an open romantic.

"It is someone you know, Nikki," Karen started confidently enough with the easy bit then hesitated a second as she carried on. "but it's a she, Yvonne Atkins."

Karen spoke smiling and blushing like a teenage girl speaking aloud her daydreams for the very first time, as indeed it was for her.

"If you're sure of how you feel, Karen," Nikki said, and Karen nodded at that, unbelievably glad for someone else to validate her point of view. "Then knowing

that Yvonne is not the one to piss about at anything, love will surely come your way."

"We had to do it at Larkhall on our own on opposite sides of the prison bars with Nikki possibly stuck inside for life." Helen spoke with intensity right

into Karen's eyes, "Each of us were Billy no Mates that way, no one to speak to outside of ourselves when we had the chance.."

"Only you and Dominic and Dr Thomas kept butting in at the wrong time." Nikki added with a smile.

"All right, all right. A thousand Hail Mary's, a penance for life, what more can I do?" Karen retorted playfully yet sincerely knowing now how it felt.

"But talking to the two of you has helped me more than I can say." Karen replied softly.

"You really are in love with her," Helen said softly to which Karen mouthed and articulated the words on the air

"Yes, I am in love with Yvonne Atkins."

She was lucky, she knew it. She felt that she might not have deserved that second chance of friendship but was grateful more than she could say to have

got it. It was just a shame when they left for the train back to Wales that she was left on her own and the stillness and the shows that company had banished

crept back again.

"'They, too, are of that tenacious kind,'" quoted Karen that BBC voice in her brain with which she replayed the dream of last night. Perhaps there is a

future beyond mere survival, she thought, tucked up in bed and wondering if Yvonne was doing the same.

Scene 30

"That's Mr Fenner or Mr Farmer as he called himself." Rhiannon Dawson whispered to Julie Johnson behind her hand, across the visiting table. She was fearful

that the evil brooding black presence of Fenner some distance away might overhear. "When I was, you know, with Damian," stumbled Rhiannon as she did not

want to dwell on that period in her past of which she was most ashamed. "I went to one of them places, you know what I mean."

In turn Julie J was reluctant to mention the sort of sauna places which she had spent far too much of her time and kept her away from the children she most

loved and especially when in that precious time available, they had to briefly become mother and daughter in the same place, same time.

"Anyway, I'm sure that Mr Farmer came round, chatting to the ..boss, asking how the trade was going and something about shipping in some Estonian women

as the punters liked them. Then I saw him slip a big wad of cash from the nightsafe and slip out the door. He wasn't a punter himself, none of the other

girls mentioned anything as they were all the bitch in charge was elsewhere."

"You would swear to it, Rhiannon. Only this is dead important."

"Dead sure, mum. I remember him coming up to me eyeing up my boobs, putting his finger under my chin and telling me he was 'going to keep a special eye

on me'...just like he told me when he called me in for a private interview that time I was here."

"The rotten..." Julie J was about to explode when Rhiannon Dawson put her hand over Julie Johnson's mouth just in time.

"Keep quiet, Mum or else he'll overhear. You don't want to spoil things. And I'll swear on oath anything I've said. I'm eighteen now and I can handle it.

Trust me, Mum. And tell Yvonne of this."

And Julie J looked into the steadfast eyes of her daughter, so confident, so mature that tears welled up in her eyes that she was proud to see her grow

up so fast from the little baby she could still picture her being.

"You've got you're A level results, through, Rhiannon darling."

Rhiannon nodded and smiled. She'd promised mum and Auntie Ju that she would get through college and she had worked harder than she knew she could. She wanted

so much to repay them for what she'd done wrong.....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karen made her way carefully into the room where Grayling had his monthly meetings of Wing Governors. By being fairly punctual, she managed to secure a

seat at the long rectangular polished mahogany table fairly well away from Grayling, who, true to form, was at the head of the table. There were a few

'brown nosers' amongst the Wing Governors who were positioned close to him, eagerly listening to every word he said and chorused his more inane conclusions.

She smiled cynically to herself that long ago, she and her fellow rebels were on the back row at school discreetly whispering to each other while the teacher's

back was changed. Nothing much changes, only the uniform.

"What did you hear at the management meeting today, Miss Betts," Sylvia, the most overtly nosy of them all used to say and Karen had to help herself to

a couple of Hedex tablets with water and when they took effect, she extracted the moments of real importance from the mass of noisy outpourings.

"...and Area has made it a number one priority to ensure that all Wing Governors have action plans in place for bereavement strategies for dealing with

instances amongst prisoners that occur from time to time. There is a special Home Office directive which all prisons have to have in place....Can one of

you volunteer to take forward responsibility for collating records on the action plan and report to me personally."

Don't look my way, Grayling, Karen smiled and studiously avoided his eye. I can be paid to be bored to death by you. Just let me be in charge of G Wing

and keep out of it.

The image jumped into her mind of G wing after the fire. In the most charred part of the blaze, the side door, burnt to a cinder that had powdered into

dust when the firemen's axe had tapped it, was Shaz Wiley lying on her face and her clothes badly scorched. Karen had had to hold onto her stomach when

she saw it herself and when she had told Denny the news, she had burst into tears and sobbing and clung on to her for ages so it seemed, gently patting

her shoulder as if she were a child of hers. She thought that a bit of 'bereavement strategy' would help for her as well were she able to use such bureaucratic

unfeeling words at a moment of crisis like that.

Karen mentally detached herself further from the meeting remembering Helen Stewart's last words to her after Karen, to her total shame admitting to destroying

the sexual assault report she had compiled on Fenner, the same man who had repaid her loyalty by promptly doing the same to her later on.

"The bastard" Karen mouthed her thoughts talking aloud.

"You have something to say, Karen." Grayling said affronted that she had interrupted the flow of his report on his pet subject while some of the other Wing

Governors looked round in disapproval.

"Oh nothing, nothing, carry on Neil." Karen apologised. For what did it matter?

Karen's mind was attuned to that Scottish voice and understanding eyes who forgave even that and possessed that rare forward thinking mind that had always

impressed her.

"Never you mind, Karen. There's bound to be a copy of this in Grayling's files. What I don't expect you to do is to go for Grayling on my account and nail

Fenner on that. He would say, quite rightly from his position, that it isn't your place to do so. What you can do is to blackmail the bastard to stay clear

of Fenner, to let us tip him to the hangman's drop, so to speak, and keep out of the way. It all depends on timing. Do you think you're up for that, Karen?"

And Karen nodded to herself and pursed her lips with that look of determination that said that her will would move mountains along with the rest of the

sisterhood that Fenner feared and hated so much. Oh yes, she was up for it to scare the shit out of that ventriloquist's dummy at the end of the table,

speaking words that she could not hear. And most of all she would thirst for and gleefully share the collective revenge against Jim bloody Fenner.

Scene 31

"So, after all these years, you've become Bett's hanger on, Sylvia." Fenner glared at Sylvia. "Never mind the old times, you don't mind pissing on your

old mates, sod any idea of loyalty,

Ever since the demonstration and Fenner resigning from the union, the coolness that had been developing between Sylvia and Fenner broke out into an open

rupture of relations between the two of them. There were similarities between them up to a point and chance had propelled Fenner in one direction and Sylvia

in the opposite direction. The bonds between them were bound to snap dramatically.

"I didn't ask you to resign from the POA, Jim." Sylvia replied, retaliating on the one issue that she felt strongly about. Never mind how those hothead

militants might be taking over the union, you stood by it through thick and thin. "And you were all ready to dump your mates and creep your way into being

Wing Governor under Lynfords Security. Lynfords would have thrown us to the wolves one by one and you wouldn't have lifted a finger to help us and it's

bad enough when Joe Public doesn't care how we slave, day in, day out. I wasn't there when the prisoners had their little party but for once they did us

a favour. Even if it meant Wade and Stewart back here for the day. At least Karen Betts had the guts to stand up to them from the beginning, not like some

people."

Fenner was taken aback by the strength of Sylvia's outburst. It was unlike her to be as articulate as she was rather than trot out the same clichés. He

snarled and skulked off to the Social Club to see if any of the young POs wanted a few words of his wisdom. He felt safest amongst the lads anyway. They

understood him better than anyone.

Sylvia had a pang of conscience at seeing such an old one time friend turn nasty but whatever happened now, her job was safe. She had to hand it to Karen

that she was very clever in seeing off the privatisers and making her feel that she had some minor part to play. She was always prickly in the past as

anyone who made fun of her slow wittedness got her back up, making her feel stupid. That was why she had hated Wade and Atkins, the chief troublemakers

but even troublemakers had their use as at the Christopher Biggins. Besides, she had stuck to the monumental discovery that if you didn't bluster and attempt

to bully, people actually responded to it. All those years ago, she did want to be kind hearted until a load of pisstakers got her back up and she vowed

never ever to show any signs of softness and sympathy. It was like she had walked along the same constrained trail on straight lines, never knowing or

wanting to find alternatives until the hole in the fence and she just walked through and she saw horizons she hadn't dreamed of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, Yvonne laid her head on her pillow after the usual shouting between prisoners out of the cell windows had died down and she was soon asleep.

However, she was borne up as if by a magic carpet ride and she could see and feel as much as if she were awake...

She could remember being with Charlie when she heard him down in the hall on his mobile phone striding around as he talked.

"Yeah, I'll come out and we'll do the biz like we agreed to. Eeevie was looking forward to a night in with me, you know what it is, some men can't keep

their hands off you and some can't." At that moment, she felt a pang of disappointment as she had a healthy sex drive that Charlie had always been turned

on by although of late he was tired. She liked them to come on hard and rough, it was what she was used to......

""Come here gorgeous." Charlie had said to her, reviving the fire that there was between them when they were in the Larkhall prison, private visitor's room

care of Fenner. "I love you, Eevie, you know that. I'm made for you." His soothing voice reassured her as her heart sank within her to see him about to

go.

"They say love conquers all, don't they, eh." Charlie had said in his most meaningful romantic way, looking sad to see Yvonne remain behind bars. In her

dream she looked down at herself and Charlie like actors in a play she was watching.

Yvonne could remember seeing Renee Williams first day on the wing and turning to Babs and explaining quietly.

"It was her old man fixing it to bump my Charlie off...It was Renee Williams husband I took out a contract to kill."

Yvonne then twisted around and the internal movie camera clicked clicked on through the ancient projector while she was in the back stalls with some fella

she'd had a blind date. This time, she watched the film closely.

"In your dreams. He wouldn't touch you with a bargepole." The woman on the screen said to Renee Williams with all the smiling hardness she was capable of.

"No, you're right," the woman with the snake like eyes said laughing in her eyes. "It wasn't a bargepole he used. Kind of unusual I remember. That nasty

little scar he's got just over it. Couple of inches lower and he wouldn't have had one to shag me with."

The woman on the screen did a brilliant job of trying to hold it together and look unaffected by it all but she followed her as she walked past Renee to

her room. Only she remembered the bitter tears she shed that night that she had been betrayed and the glass of wine she threw in anger at the photo of

Charlie when she realised she'd been set up from the beginning.

She'd had a couple of shags since but only as she was bleeding desperate, more so than she ever thought she could feel in her life.

Tears started forming in her eyes as she turned and twisted, unable to break free of the darkness that surrounded her. She was held as if by invisible spider's

webs and couldn't move.

Why did she attract all the bastards, she thought bitterly. Could it be because she put on this tough sexy bitch image, the clothes, the look when she couldn't

be sexually hard all the time, she wanted something softer.

"The chair's hard

Your voice is hard

The money's hard

The living's hard

Give me something that's not hard, come on, come on

Give me something that's not hard, come on, come on

Give me something that's not hard, come on, come on"

Give me, give me"

All of a sudden, the door opened a fraction letting in golden rays through the crack and she found herself drifting closer to it. Wider and wider it opened

until the crack became a rectangle driving away the darkness. Her arms and legs mysteriously became free and she could move. The light was dazzling and

she blinked her eyes until she could adjust to the light.

Suddenly, quite close, the vision of Karen Betts appeared and an enormous feeling of relief poured over her like the light did. Karen was dressed in her

favourite tailored black suit and white blouse. Her blond hair blew back slightly in the wind and that little smile at the corner of her mouth awakened

the same feelings in her that she saw always had when she someone that she fancied.

Karen seemed to float closer and closer to her and, nonchalantly, slipped off her suit jacket and dropped it on the ground. In that one casual gesture,

she slid off her uniform and the woman inside her was in full view of Yvonne's admiring eyes. She looked unashamedly at the shape of her breasts and, yes,

Karen was worth looking at. She seemed to float her way into Yvonne's outstretched arms and their lips met, softly at first till their mouths opened for

each other. Yvonne clung onto Karen thanking God she was there and were away from the past horrors. Then she relaxed and her fingers lightly slid over

her for the sheer physical pleasure and, in turn, she could feel Karen pressing herself against her.

Yvonne opened her eyes to find herself flat on her back in the most magical place of her life. Her naked skin was stretched out the length of her on soft

golden sand which stretched for miles on either side while little white fluffy clouds gently sailed their way across the intense blue sky. The sound of

the surf broke gently on the shore and reached out to bathe and bless Yvonne's right ankle. She felt the presence of naked skin next to her and Karen's

brilliant blue eyes, the same colour as the sky, smiled down her and her tousled blond hair was waving in the wind. The touch and taste of each other was

exquisite pleasure, far better than the fleeting memory of watching the silver screen when that other woman and Charlie had done the same a million years

back in the past.

"Come on, Yvonne." Karen's perfumed breath spoke against her ear. "Let's go into that bedroom over there. It's perfectly safe."

And as Karen held her hand and they entered the door, Yvonne rolled over in bed and, once again, the sunlight shone through the thin curtains and she was

aware to her deep disgust of the thin sheets of Larkhall. Only on this time, they seemed to be wrapped round her in a tangle.

"It seemed so good in the movies," Yvonne muttered to herself disconsolately. "A couple of bleeding learner driver lesbians, like Karen and I. Karen better

know what she's bloody doing 'cos I'm not sure I do."

She hardly noticed the name she had quietly adopted. As Nikki said, she wasn't the woman to piss around.

Scene 32

Denny came bouncing up to look up Yvonne as soon as she came out of her cell door looking a bit fragile.

"You're all right, man?" Denny looked at her in some concern. While Denny might be a bit slow on the uptake in a lot of ways, she was a pretty good judge

of Yvonne's feelings.

"Better than I look, Denny. I've had a lot on my mind but I've sort of worked it all out last night. I'm just bleeding knackered, that's all." Yvonne replied

with a broad smile and her eyes were alight even if she winced a bit from the bright lights.

"As long as you're away from that Hedges creep. I was dead worried about you, man."

"You can take it from me," Yvonne smiled to herself as much as to Denny "that there is no way I'm going to get involved with anyone like Hedges again. That

part of my life is history."

"You're getting out in a couple of weeks, ain't you, Yvonne. You're not going to leave me behind same way as Hedges." Denny asked anxiously. "Though I wouldn't

want you to get locked up in this shit hole just because I am."

Denny's expression on her face moved Yvonne incredibly so. That warm maternal side of her, the first key to breaking free of her own emotional chains reacted

to the fears of a daughter, fearful of separation from her mother, when she is not ready to face the world on her own. What choked her voice more was Denny's

incredible generosity of spirit that would let her go free from Larkhall for her own needs. It was the combinations of feelings together which was the

best side of Larkhall, the side that forced everything into the open that might have been left unsaid in the outside world.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're looking cheerful today, Jim Fenner." Karen spoke drily as that glowering face made the usual sour jibe.

"I'll look cheerful enough when another firm come along and take over this place and I'm Wing Governor and you're serving groceries at Tesco's. It's only

a matter of time you know, that Area fix this up. Let's face it, Karen Betts, you're only the temporary caretaker for my job, just keeping my seat warm."

A feeling of rage unleashed went off like a firebomb inside of Karen. This guy was the creep that had laced her drinks at that conference years ago and

she ended up getting into bed with him. He has a few surprises waiting in store for him. Her lips parted and she was ready to speak when a vision came

into her mind of that elderly Russian gentleman dressed in a three piece suit.

...."Not yet, not yet, Karen. This is not the time..I said do not give Jim Fenner any warning of the blow you are going to inflict on him. Don't do it,

Karen."

Fenner was in a bad mood as he had woken up with a hangover and even the sight of Karen made him want to needle her as part of a constant harassment campaign.

He had done it for Stewart and now Betts was next in line, the best he could come up with right now. With a feeling of smug satisfaction, he saw an expression

of blind anger in Karen's eyes. Then a very weird thing happened. Her eyes immediately went out of focus, staring into the distance and her lips parted.

Her right hand that held the pen ready to sign the checklist Fenner had given to her was frozen rigid.

"Karen?" Fenner asked, genuinely puzzled. Wing Governors looking as if they were seeing visions were totally weird and from having once lived with Karen,

this was totally new. Anything out of character always worried him as that made that person less predictable.

The vision faded before her eyes and Fenner's unwelcome face came back into focus.

"That's fine, Jim." Karen attempted a brief unconvincing smile that briefly twisted her unresponsive facial muscles. "Now if you don't mind, I've got work

to catch up on."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Yvonne, we've got some news to tell you." Julie Johnson whispered discreetly to Yvonne while they were queuing up for breakfast.

"Later, my cell," Yvonne spoke out of the corner of her mouth. Julie Johnson was not the person to waste her time on some fifth rate gossip, Yvonne told

herself, and not with that smile of satisfaction on her face.

Later on, Yvonne was sitting on her bed reading a magazine and still wondering if it was on this bed that her world changed around last night. If it's envelope

stuffing time later today, she'll be bleeding struggling to see the labels to lick. Julie J's discreet knock at the door aroused her sleeping wits into

full alert.

"Can you remember my Rhiannon coming to visit me the other day?" Julie J led off with a smile. "Well, it seems that O'Kane was getting more than a helping

hand to run them while she was here. Fenner. He was getting a rake off for looking after them. My Rhiannon saw him when she was working there once. She'll

testify in any court you'll name."

The bald simple recitation of the facts was like a light being switched on inside Yvonne's mind. This was the moment she was looking for to get rid of the

bastard, the same chance that had misfired in Helen Stewart's time had come around a second time. They must not make the tiniest mistake. A touch of fear

lay at the bottom of the enormous drive to action that told Julie J to 'keep schtum' and Yvonne propelled herself rapidly out the door to Karen's office

while no one was looking.

"Yvonne. Nice to see you." Karen smiled widely at her. She was wearing that very same tailored black suit and blouse that she saw in her dream and made

Yvonne's heart beat doubletime. Still this is business.

"We've got it, Karen." Yvonne started excitedly, a huge grin from ear to ear. "I mean the goods on Fenner." Yvonne added in terms that Karen didn't quite

understand but must be hugely important bloody marvellous news.

"I mean, that Julie J's daughter Rhiannon can positively state that she was working at one of O'Kane's saunas and that she saw Fenner go in and collect

the takings. She will speak up in any court you name and we can get the bastard sacked."

Karen half rose from her desk and stood frozen in space and time. A huge feeling of absolute exhilaration burst inside her and flowed over her and the biggest

smile of satisfaction lit up her face. Instinctively she crossed the space forwards or sideways, she couldn't remember how, to dodge past her desk that

separated her from Yvonne and gave her the biggest hug she had given any human being for..was it so long. She had played a waiting game she and others

had played while the deadly chess game of bluff and counter bluff that had inched its way so slowly and taken it out of her. Now Yvonne moved the queen

a decisive one pace forward. They were ready to take out the Bishop of Grayling along a clear open diagonal path as someone who must be neutralised first.

After that with their other pieces now in position, it was checkmate for Fenner. The matter was one so geometrically pure.

Karen broke away from Yvonne, planted a delicate kiss on her lips totally unselfconsciously and grabbed for her mobile. She was not going through Larkhall

switchboard.

"Keep a lookout, Yvonne." Karen asked Yvonne who thought how times had changed that a prisoner was on guard duty for the Wing Governor against the likes

of Fenner, the Principal Officer.

"Is that Helen? Karen Betts here" and Helen heard her voice vibrant with excitement for the first time in her life.

"We've got a witness who will testify that that bastard Fenner was running the O'Kane brothels. Julie J's daughter. She'll stand up in any court you name."

"Go get him, Karen. First get Grayling off your back using my sexual harassment report and then get Fenner sacked. You're doing it for all of us. And any

help you need, we're a phone call away. And good luck, Karen."

Helen's own tones spoken with restrained passion willed her own strength down the phone line to Karen that Helen knew she would need. Then she ran off to

tell a sleeping Nikki. Just as well someone answers the phone early in the morning.

"I'm going after Grayling first, then Fenner. Keep your eyes open, you and the others and...wish me good luck." Karen finished with a smile that betrayed

her slight nervousness in what stood to be the most momentous day in her life.

"For you, Karen, anything." Yvonne's eyes spoke with all the tenderness that she now felt so free to express.

Scene 33

Karen strode down the two metal staircases back onto the ground floor, her heels clicking and then her tunnel vision took her in an undeviating straight

line all the way to Grayling's room.

"Miss Betts," called out Ken from a place out of sight from her side vision but she told him "Later, please, I'm busy." Ken strolled away, shaking his head.

Some people were impatient and acted as if time were money, now he, he could talk all day.

She pushed open the door without ceremony to see Grayling seated at his laptop which was perched on his imposing mahogany desk, much bigger and grander

than her own cheap teak effort.

"Now this is a surprise," Grayling said with his false smile. "Do take a seat."

"I'm not going to beat about the bush, Neil," Karen started somewhat breathily which she paused to fight down. She needed to hit him calmly, surely and

not miss.

"I've got totally substantiated information that Jim Fenner has been guilty of gross misconduct and I intend proceedings to insist on his resignation from

Larkhall with immediate effect, and I mean today. The charge I shall put to him is of corruptly accepting substantial sums from a chain of brothels and

saunas which were run by Virginia O'Kane a one-time prisoner whom he was personal officer for. I have all the evidence I need to make this one stick. If

he does not agree to this, then I demand an immediate investigation by Area while he is suspended from all official duties."

Grayling's face was a picture of horror and dismay as Karen's calm level precisely enunciated voice paralysed his reasoning processes for the first time

in his life.

"You, are not implicated in this matter, Neil as they date from the time Helen Stewart was acting Governor and before you came to Larkhall Prison..."

"So Helen Stewart was culpable of neglect. It seems that you implicate her..." Neil Grayling's reply came back from his pursed lips and angry expression.

The two things that stuck out were that he wasn't involved and his arch enemy, Helen Stewart was.

"Helen Stewart had started her own investigations which, unfortunately, she was unable to complete. Poor Helen had to struggle with a climate of opinion

that labelled her as being prejudiced against Jim Fenner." She left out of it that Karen herself had been drawn into this as to be total honest to a slippery

snake like Grayling is a big mistake.

"What Helen did leave behind was a detailed report alleging that Fenner had sexually assaulted her. I know, repeat know, that you have a copy of it which

you have deliberately withheld. This is unprofessional behaviour which could put you in the dock, so to speak." Karen finished with an icy smile as she

produced her ace from the bottom of her pack.

"Sheer conjecture." blustered Grayling but not without betraying to Karen's sharp eyes his doubts from the way his eyes swivelled round the room, anything

but look her in the eyes.

"Oh well, I just wonder if all this will get out to the press. Helen, I know from seeing a lot of her recently, is well connected to the press as is Nikki

Wade who I've got to know...as you can see for yourself in this Gardener's World magazine. Here you are," Karen added in her most casual relaxed fashion

possible. Now she was stuck into the battle, she was cool as ice and twice as deadly for it. "And while we are at it, just look at these pictures of Fenner,"

and here Karen produced Helen's blown up pictures of Fenner the day Christopher Biggins made his very well remembered visit to Larkhall. "Makes a good

centrefold spread to write an article round and Helen Stewart, aside from myself, knows this pile of corruption for what it is, has the guts to say her

mind and can't be bought off or conned. Only this time, it isn't me as a pin up as you threatened me once but your one time boyfriend, Jim bloody Fenner."

As Karen reached the conclusion of her speech, sheer hatred of the man boiled to the surface and her icy, deadly words drip dripped like spots of water

hitting a red hot metal plate. The back of her mind went back to the day when she stood before Grayling as supplicant for justice after Jim Fenner had

raped her and the feelings of impotent rage after the event when she realised that he'd double crossed her. This time, she was dictating terms, and she,

and the visions of avenging sisterhood that she summoned up, cracked Grayling's nerve.

"What is it you are wanting, Karen." Grayling's shaking voice finally replied.

"That Fenner is called in immediately and that his resignation letter is written out on the spot and that you do not collude in any way in protecting him

from the long overdue justice that awaits him. In return, you are safe from me. Only..don't double cross me, Grayling. It isn't safe."

"Oughtn't he be entitled to union representation." stammered Grayling, clutching at the one straw.

"He resigned from the POA. His choice." Karen replied with a smile that split her face from ear to ear.

Scene 34

Yvonne was casually waiting on the landing with her awareness radar at acute functioning level. She had blown the cobwebs out of her mind and her eyes were

on full alert. She had quietly followed Karen down the staircase and saw her make like an arrow in flight straight to Grayling's lair, brushing aside Ken.

She had never seen her move with so much determination and purpose.

"You cooking up any more schemes, Atkins," Fenner taunted. "You with your witches coven around her, you, Blood, Hunt. Any more scams you're going to operate?"

Fenner taunted.

"Oooh, Mr Fenner sir. Nothing could be further from my mind. I'm just going to enjoy this fag while things are quiet." Yvonne smiled, blowing a column of

smoke into the air.

"Just watch it. You're stuffing envelopes this afternoon so don't be late." Fenner growled back.

"Mr Fenner," Ken approached him nervously. "Boss wants to see you in his office now. Says it's important."

"What's he want?" Fenner said irritably.

"Search me," Yvonne replied coolly, hands spread out, keeping everything bottled up and praying to God that things pan out all right. The bleeding Godsquad

had always got on her tits, but after conversations with Babs a refreshing change from Crystal's Bible bashing, for once in her life, inside her mind,

she prayed to God, hoping he would be an understanding sort of guy, especially with her track record. From then on, there was no sign of life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh Karen You here as well. I thought that Neil wanted to have a word with me, not you." Fenner said with clear annoyance.

"Sit down, Jim Fenner." Karen spoke evenly, paused and took a deep breath. She was on a roll now after neutralising Grayling.

"There is a pen and paper in front of you. I am insisting, as Wing Governor, that you write out your letter of resignation from the prison service with

immediate effect."

"What," Fenner looked around uncomprehending, expecting Grayling to intervene. "you're making some kind of joke, Karen."

Karen's deadly smile was uncompromising and the first feeling of fear were stirring in him.

"No joke, Jim Fenner. Let's see. There is incontrovertible evidence that over a period of time, you have been engaged in the running of a number of brothels

and saunas. I have Virginia O'Kane's bank statements and CCTV cameras at the bank would make very interesting watching. I have a witness who will testify

against you, the list which Helen Stewart kindly gave me- that were formerly operated solely by Virginia O'Kane. The same Virginia O'Kane whose personal

officer you were. I have all the proofs I need to finish your career in the Prison Service on the one charge that I can get to stick as opposed to the

string of charges, which you have twisted and wriggled your way out of. This was the same time, Jim Fenner, when you told me a pack of lies about having

to go out for your Mason's meetings instead of hanging round squalid sauna bars." Karen's voice rose at the end to a pitch of anger and her eyes burnt

into him.

"To get to the point, you have two ways of going, immediate resignation or if you choose not to go quietly, then you will be immediately suspended pending

a full investigation. I have Neil's backing on this. Am I joking now, Jim Fenner?" Karen finished on a mocking note.

Fenner's face was a picture while this was going on. Anger and fear boiled up inside him in equal measure and the clock on the wall, normally inaudible,

ticked away while events hung in the balance. He looked out of the corner of his eye at Grayling but his eyes were looking into his desk. So the shit stabbing

bastard didn't want to know, thought Fenner bitterly.

"You bitch. I'll swing for you.." Fenner started, rising out of his seat.

"So, care to add a charge of assault against me, Jim Fenner, from the man who said that he 'loved me despite everything.' Anyway, your signed statement

if you please." Karen ended firmly, looking upwards at him, straight in the eye as he was standing at his full menacing height. The natural man in all

his dark boiling anger towered impotently over both Karen and Grayling, stripped of all guises.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The reign of Sauron is ended." Said Gandalf. "The Ringbearer has fulfilled his quest." And as the Captains gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed

to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of a shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous, it

reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent : for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took

it, and it was all blown away, and passed, and then a hush fell"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fenner looked around him. He was caught like a rat in a trap so he snatched the pen out of Karen's hand, scribbled a quick note, signed and dated it and

stormed out of the office.

"Thanks for your co-operation, Neil." Karen dryly said after checking the note carefully. "I'd better ensure there's no kicking off on the wing. If there

are any problems. I'll make sure to call you."

"Please do, Karen" Grayling replied, his face ashen white clearly visible in the light of the sun which streamed through the window.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yvonne saw Fenner burst into the landing and one look at his face made her heart jump a mile inside herself. 'Karen's pulled it off.' She thought but she

bit her tongue back as not much notice was paid to him. Fenner's face was sweaty and his eyes glared at the prisoners, threatening unspoken violence to

anyone who crossed his path while a part of him simply refused to accept reality. He took one look at Atkins's mocking smile and knew that she knew, the

bitch.

Minutes later, there was bumping and bashing going on from the locker room and he emerged glowering with two bags

"I'm going, you bitches. This is the last you see of Jim Fenner. From now on, you can all rot in hell."

A succession of yells and cheers rang round G wing as Fenner stumbled out, papers falling out of a half zipped suitcase.

"Quiet please everyone." Karen called out. "Let him go quietly, for my sake." she added which was really breaking rules for her. Normally she was an impersonal

upholder of rules where personal grace and favour had no place. This time, a time of all times, she made an exception.

"Just let him go and get out of Larkhall." Yvonne's quiet tones carried through the air.

Fenner slung his cases into the car, slung his keys in the gatehouse while Ken called out.

"Going early, Mr Fenner?"

All the reply was a revved up engine, a screech of tyres and a cloud of oily poisonous exhaust smoke that gradually faded into the air as now the source

of all corruption at Larkhall would do the same.

Scene 35

Once Karen was sure that Fenner was well and truly out of Larkhall, she climbed halfway up the metal staircase up to the 2s and looked down on the crowd.

The hubbub had died down and everyone went quiet as Karen prepared to speak.

"I thought I ought to tell you officially that Mr Fenner has tendered his resignation today and won't be coming back. The reason for the resignation, I

am sorry to say I can't go into.."

"Hey, Miss, I thought you 'd give us the gossip. You know what's going on." Julie called out, doing her best to wheedle the truth out of Karen.

"All I can tell you is that it would be hypocritical of me to wish him well in his future career, whatever that might be so I won't." Karen finished, smiling

broadly. "That's all I can really say at this minute." And Karen danced lightly away to go back to her office to grab her phone and call Helen back.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is that Nikki there? Karen here again." Karen's happy but slightly weary tone came over with a little less sharpness than was usual. "He's gone. The bastard

is finally out of Larkhall...." and at that point, Karen's tiredness started to blur her thinking as Nikki's excited tones could be heard the length of

their cottage.

"Everything went fine then," Nikki asked, becoming aware of how tired Karen was sounding.

"Yeah, great, great." Karen replied, wondering what to do now that the object of so much of her waking thoughts was now removed. "Sorry if I'm starting

to ramble. I would never have done it without you and Helen and Yvonne and so many others.."

"We'll meet up for a drink to celebrate. Meanwhile, Karen, get some rest and have a drink on me and Helen." Nikki finished on a solicitous note. "You sound

done in."

Karen put the phone down. No way could she even attempt to do some work. The only thought she had was to tell Yvonne the news and she dragged herself up

the two metal staircases and tapped quietly on Yvonne's cell door. She had both a mental and physical kickback from her adrenaline rush of a few hours

ago.

Yvonne took one glance at the tired but happy face in front of her and swept some magazines off the bed as Karen literally dropped on Yvonne's bed and she

half lay slightly aslant her head resting against the corner.

"Tired darling," Yvonne asked Karen softly.

"Extremely tired but very happy." Karen mumbled fuzzily. "And all the happier for seeing you."

"If you let me take your heart

I will prove to you

We will never be apart

If I'm part of you

Look into these eyes

Tell me what you see

Don't you realise

What you see is me

Tell me what you see."

Karen felt conscious that the suit jacket was constricting her and getting in her way. Casually, she slipped it off her and draped it on Yvonne's bed and

extended her arms out to Yvonne. Before Yvonne's eyes, the same shapely figure in a figure forming white blouse was moving towards her except that this

was real, she pinched herself. Their lips met in a sleepy but passionate kiss while their arms went round each other for a nice luxuriant hug. It is as

good as in the movies, Yvonne thought in rising desire.

"When you get out, Yvonne in, say 7 days, have you thought where you might be living." Karen said softly, "Why don't you come over to my place sometime."

Karen said smiling, her fingertips brushing the side of Yvonne's cheek. "I know that Lauren will be demanding your attention but.."

"Sounds good enough for me, Karen." Yvonne smiled.

"And you had better be ready to make love all night. I'm insatiable- if I can figure out what to do." Karen's slightly husky tones wrapped themselves around

Yvonne.

"That's no problem, Karen. I don't know what to do either." Yvonne grinned sleepily as she kissed her gently on the lips

"If I had my way." yawned Karen. "I'd sleep here the night with you..but since it wouldn't look good Sylvia serving us a cup of tea in bed together..."

"...it would bleeding wake her up in the morning.." Yvonne yawned as she spoke.

"I'd better get back to my flat, have a shower and get pissed.." Karen semi decisively.

"But I'll be doing your farewell to Larkhall Prison and lie most unashamedly about wishing the best for your future whatever it may be..."

"When we know that our life will be together." finished Yvonne.

"So till then." Karen finished and she unbuttoned Yvonne's blouse and ran her fingers down her body and gave her a last passionate snog before slipping

her jacket on blowing her a farewell kiss and assuming the outward persona of Wing Governor.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karen seemed to float in to work with a smile on her face, past the doorman and into G Wing where the Julies smiled and waved at her.

"Hey it's Miss Betts. How you're doing?"

"Just fine, just fine. Best day of her life."

She felt a little embarrassed being treated as some kind of celebrity. She had always prided herself in being conscientious and doing a good days work and

also that she might help others where she could without being boastful about it. She had been brought up not to show off and that was written deeply into

her psyche as if it were part of her name. She didn't want to be ungracious and, despite herself, waved more theatrically than was her style.

The Julies watching her saw the warm smile on her face and could tell at a glance, the incredible change from the constrained harassed Karen Betts and this

new very expressive woman overflowing with good feeling. Yvonne, watching from the sidelines, simply thought, that's my woman out there and she deserves

all the applause out there.

Smiling, Karen walked jauntily into the PO's room to do her usual weekly meeting.

"Right, as you all know, Jim Fenner handed in his resignation yesterday with immediate effect...." Karen started when Di cut in.

"Resigned?" Di spoke, staring at Karen with her questioning vacant eyes. "That's not like Jim. True, he's had his ups and downs and he used to make a lot

of sexist remarks, mainly cos he'd been hitting the bottle. I've spoken to him a lot recently and he seemed in as good spirits as he'd ever been. He'll

be a great loss to the wing, as solid as the structure of Larkhall itself and great for getting the younger inexperienced lads to find their feet."

"Quite," Karen's glacial smile seemed to come from the Arctic wastelands where the freezing winds blew across the frozen core of Greenland. Di of course

knew nothing of all this. "Jim explained that he left for personal reasons and asked that it not become the source of gossip in the Social Club. Wherever

he's gone, of course we wish him well." Karen reached for a tepid cup of black coffee and took a swig as a feeling of nausea was rising up from her stomach.

Still, if it took this outrageous lie to bury the dead and chase away the mourners from the unmarked grave, so be it.

"This means that with a Principal Officer down, I'm acting you up, Sylvia, to take Jim Fenner's place. I'll be calling for a national advert for a permanent

transfer but for some strange reasons, willing transferees are hard to come by. Can't think why." Karen finished, flicking her hair back. "Of course, your

present duties will be reallocated."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sylvia beamed, touched at Karen's mark of faith in her.

Di looked in greater puzzlement. Surely Sylv would have said, over my dead body and launched into a vitriolic attack about victimisation and never giving

him a chance. She couldn't make head nor tail of this.

Karen went on to the rest of the meeting, a feeling of joy in her heart. That brooding black presence out of the corner of her eye had been guaranteed to

make some surly comment designed to undermine her. Even when he said nothing, deep down it nagged at her like a constant dull toothache which she had got

used to take and suffer. The feeling of the tooth, cleanly extracted leaving no pain was a pleasure she never thought she would enjoy.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day had come at last and her belongings had been packed into three plastic bags bursting at the seams. Now she would tread that same path that Nikki

and Crystal had trodden, the lucky ones who had lived to see the back of this place. How would Denny get on, what about the Julies and their kids, she

thought to herself. I won't be part of that anymore, she thought as a slight panic overcome her as any middle aged woman with a widespread series of roles

in life would feel deprived of a large chunk of them, even in a shithole like Larkhall which she had cursed more times than the fags she'd smoked here.

Now it would start to become history.

"You'll be all right, Denny?" she asked the other woman who was helping her pack her bags. "You'll be able to run this place OK."

"It'll be a piece of piss, man." Denny assured her. "With Fenner gone and Miss Betts running the show, everything will be fine. Any newcomer that starts

any trouble, either side of the bars, either us lot or Miss Betts will sort out. Only you come and see me on visiting days." Denny looked expectantly.

Yvonne nodded. Then she coughed and broached a delicate subject that she wanted her advice on.

"Sure man if you think I can help."

"I know you can, Denny. It's like this...."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yvonne opened the door and was bewildered to see G Wing crowded and the prisoners line the 2s and the 3s and that there were more people in G Wing than

she ever thought were there. Even the POs were less stony faced than she expected though Karen had primed them of the behaviour expected of her.

"Go, Yvonne, go Yvonne." The chants reverberated down the wing and the blue plastic mugs were beaten in a rhythm. Yvonne's eyes were filled with tears.

She knew she was top dog but not that she was bleeding famous. Each step seemed to be ceremonial and she passed the smiling faces that patted her on her

shoulders and a mental camera in her eye was recording everything in the most emotional moment of her life. A far grander entrance than the PO who tried

to bundle her out of that white wagon with all the others.

A right at the end, her dearest friends were waiting near the first set of prison gates. In turn, the Julies gave her a big hug.

"Stay safe, Yvonne. We'll be all right from now on. Thanks to you and the others."

"The others." Julie Johnson echoed.

"You look after yourself, man. And don't get yourself hitched to some bastard of a man. One is enough" Denny said smiling.

"Chance will be a fine thing." Yvonne smiled knowingly.

Last in line was Karen Betts in full Wing Governor demeanour.

"Yvonne Atkins. This is one time you're getting out the legal way, not over the wall or out of a toilet window. In a way we'll be sorry to see you go but

Larkhall's loss will be your gain. Whatever you do in life, you'll do fine." Karen said with a straight face and just the right smile. And she came forward

and shook her hand heartily in just the same way she had seen Nikki off

You bloody crafty woman, Karen Betts. This is the most bleeding unusual way to touch you these days. Bloody good performance.

"I understand your taxi is waiting for you, Yvonne." Karen smiled. You know, Karen as you've arranged it.

And Yvonne walked out into the mists of the future seeing a kaleidoscope of familiar faces, even a smiling Bodybag which has to be a bleeding miracle. I'm

glad that there is one bastard not there to wish me farewell or I'd have spat in his face. Still never mind.

A PO helped her with her bags into the taxi which drove her away into the future. The prison walls diminished in size till she turned the corner, on her

way to a country pub with Nikki, Helen and Karen.

Scene 36

Yvonne clutched her plastic bags to herself as the taxi wended its way through the built up traffic around Larkhall. She seemed to be in a vacuum, that

she had been sucked up outside her world up on high and was not sure where she would descend. Of course, it was a country pub but such places belonged

to the pre Larkhall Yvonne Atkins, not this other woman who had changed so much.

"...The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there..."

She had entered Larkhall as a happily married woman and mother of two children. Now both male Atkins were dead and she had a female lover. She is going

to take things from the here and now, not to turn back the clock as the clock has broken down.

Soon the taxi turned into country lanes and the green fields and hedges flashed by until the taxi turned off to the country pub, set back from the road.

The taxi drew up close to the pub and stopped with a scrunch of gravel.

She took her bags from the car and stared all around her. The wide open space and the stillness frightened her a little. What was she frigging well supposed

to do now?

"Yvonne," called a well educated familiar voice from the mid past. "Nice to see you."

With a sigh of relief, Yvonne saw the tall slim woman approach her with a broad smile, Nikki Wade. Thank God for one familiar face. Yet this was a different

Nikki with dark, slightly curly shoulder length hair, glowing eyes, suntanned, the picture of health.

"What's with the health kick, Nikki. You look great." Yvonne asked admiringly.

"A year or so of country living away from the shithouse, the place not the people or at least some of them." Nikki replied in her old familiar, 'call a

spade a spade' way. That hadn't changed anyway.

"Yvonne, great to see you. Welcome to the party." Helen's Scottish accent made her feel welcome. This glowing creature was a million miles away from the

white faced tired out woman who she could remember staking out O'Kane's brothels all that time ago...the same thing that they'd just run Fenner out of

the Prison Service for. The sliding sense of time confused her.

"Now tell us the inside story, every last detail of how you and Karen saw off that bastard. We're dying to hear."

"Isn't Karen here yet," Yvonne asked, a touch disappointed.

"Don't worry, Yvonne. Karen's on her way. She'd just phoned me on her mobile to say she was held up at work but she won't be long."

"Sooo, Yvonne. 'Turn lezzie,' you said to me once. You would 'sooner shag bleeding Fenner." Nikki said with a teasing smile.

Nikki had never seen Yvonne blush before in her life or even imagining her doing so and even more be stuck for words but both events happened. It was like

a planet suddenly shooting away from its orbit round the sun which it had circled for millions of years.

"I'm glad for you, Yvonne. If I imagine Karen Betts away from her Wing Governor's uniform, I'm sure she's the woman for you."

"That's bloody easy for me to imagine right now," joked Yvonne nervously. After all, what's the big deal talking about Karen in front of Helen and Nikki?

Helen had bought in the drinks and laid them outside on the trestle table.

"Cheers." Helen called out, being the first to clink her glass against Yvonne's "And to yours and Karen's future."

The ice was broken and Yvonne launched into the story of Fenner's downfall as far as she had seen it. The wine had gone to her head giving her a delicious

feeling of relaxation and the chatting helped the time pass. Yvonne was aware of the scrunching of gravel nearby and looked up to see Karen's sporty green

car park near them. She opened the door and Yvonne's eyes opened wide.

This was a new Karen that she had not seen before. This Karen had magically transformed herself with a very slinky low cut white top and smart black trousers

and looked as if she had been in a beauty parlour. Helen and Nikki were taken aback but not in the same way.

"Well, I had to dress up for my girlfriend." was Karen's very reasonable explanation. "Sorry I'm a bit late."

They moved their drinks to a private alcove of the pub where there would be no disturbances. Helen ordered a bottle of Champagne to celebrate and Helen

edged the cork off which popped off with a loud bang and hit the low ceiling. They held open wineglasses to catch the champagne as it bubbled out of the

bottle.

"Our treat for settling unfinished business." Helen explained.

Karen in her matter of fact way ran through her version of the story to admiration of the others. All of them had strengths in their way and knew how much

it took for Karen to settle accounts with Fenner for once and for all, never so more dangerous as when cornered.

"And now for the future." Nikki said. "Are you two planning on living together? You ought to, you know. You look good together. Anyone can tell."

Karen and Yvonne, sitting next to each other smiled inwardly to themselves and each other. Now that it came to it, with both women freed from themselves

and everything that might drag them down, it seemed the right thing to do. And it felt good for another couple to keep reminding them.

"I'm terrible, first thing in the morning," Yvonne smiled at Karen.

"So's Nikki," chimed in Helen smiling at Nikki who nodded reluctantly.

"I would never have done it without your help, Yvonne, Helen, Nikki.." Karen said, feeling real humility at her place as one cog in the whole clockwork

machinery that achieved what seemed the impossible.

"....Julie J and her daughter, Rhiannon," Yvonne added

" Virginia O'Kane's brother" Helen said.

"Sylvia Hollamby.." Karen concluded.

"What, Old Bodybag," Nikki asked incredulously.

"Even her, Nikki. She's a changed woman. You wouldn't believe her. She's acting Principal Officer in place of Fenner and, who knows, if she shapes up, she'll

get the job permanently. All it took was for her to get away from Fenner's evil influence."

The day ambled dreamily on while the four of them reminisced and talked of many things. Fairly soon, it became clearer to Helen that Yvonne and Karen were

getting restless if the hand holding and sideways looks were anything to go by.

"We'd better let the newlyweds go their own way. They've got a lot of catching up to do if you remember our first night of freedom." Helen whispered to

Nikki who nodded assent.

"We'd better be going on our way, you two. We've got a long drive back to Wales." Helen said, trying not to make it too obvious but miserably failing to

Karen's smiling eye.

"We'd better get going ourselves, Yvonne." Karen said with as much as a casual air as she could manufacture.

Soon, Yvonne found herself as the passenger in Karen's sports car and it was as well as she was sitting as one look at her made her feel weak at the knees.

Despite Karen's cool, her own heart was thumping to see the woman she had wanted for so long there, next to her and with the night before them.

Scene 37

Yvonne looked around them and she was surprised to see the sun was low down on the horizon. Surely they hadn't been sitting and drinking at the pub that

long as she hadn't noticed time passing. Her sense of time had been built on Larkhall routines and today had dissolved those boundaries away.

"Nearly home, darling," Karen whispered.

Soon, Karen pulled up at an ultra new block of flats. She leant out of the window and flashed the identifying badge that operated the electronic gates to

the built in garage under the flats. For a second, Yvonne shivered at the sounds of the gates descending after them as it brought up past associations

she was trying to forget.

"Don't worry, love. We've got the key to let us out." Karen reassured her.

In a matter of minutes, they had climbed the set of steps at the front of the flat and into the living room. Karen clicked on the sidelights which shone

patches of light leaving dark shadows.

"Nice place you've got here." Yvonne said in a matter of fact way and, then turning round to see Karen, her last act of cool flickered out that night for

good.

Karen floated her way up to Yvonne and her arms went round Yvonne's shoulders as their lips met for a passionate kiss. Karen's light fingers ran their way

round Yvonne's silk blouse as Yvonne's fingers found their way to touch Karen's soft gentle skin. Their tongues met each other and each of them could feel

the other's bodies eagerly press against the other. Their individual flickering doubts as they drove in the car dissolved away.

"What do we do next?" Yvonne breathed in Karen's ear. Karen, looking more nonchalant than she felt unbuttoned Yvonne's blouse from top to bottom, fumbling

as the buttons were the wrong way round and gazed in astonishment at Yvonne's near perfectly shaped body. Karen carefully removed her own top and Yvonne's

eyes gazed in wonder at Karen's suntanned body. The inevitable fate of age and childbirth had dealt kindly with them both.

"Love is real

Real is love

Love is wanting to be loved.

Love is touch, touch is love

Love is reaching, reaching love

Love is asking to be loved

Love is you

You and me

Love is knowing

We can be

Love is free, free is love

Love is living, living love

Love is needing to be loved."

"Do you want a drink first," Yvonne asked.

"Screw the drink, Yvonne. I want you now," Karen's breathy whisper took command.

It was only a matter of moments that what was left of their clothes were dropped on the floor where they fell and they were free to lie on Karen's bed feeling

and tasting every inch of each other's bodies. While Yvonne slid down the length of the bed and her tongue started gently licking Karen's right nipple

making her groan with pleasure, a flashback conversation floated into her head.

"...Denny, believe it or not, your man hungry, man eating Yvonne Atkins has fallen in love...with another woman."

Denny's expression was priceless, of wonder, disbelief and looked closely at Yvonne. Surely that other woman wasn't her? She's her mother for God's sake.

"I mean Karen Betts, you soft git. You don't suppose I meant you."

Denny took another few minutes to register earth shifting on its foundations and then her face split apart in a wide grin.

"Cool, wicked. That's brilliant...but why are you telling me, man?" Denny's puzzled look returned to her face.

"Because I haven't a bleeding clue to do first night I'm out and we start shagging. I want to, like pick up on a few tips. Not practical demonstration,

like." Yvonne hastily reassured Denny, "but just verbals."

"That's a piece of piss. You listen to me and she'll think you're the best shag that walked this earth. Apart from me." Denny finished smugly......

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With that in mind, Yvonne moved further down Karen's body, crossing fingers that Karen wouldn't freak right out. No chance, judging by the way Karen's legs

parted and the pressure of her hands, the movement of her body and the way Karen lay gasping with pleasure to recover her breath.

"How in hell did you learn to make love like that, Yvonne. You're sure you've never done this before." Karen looked questioningly and admiringly into Yvonne's

eyes.

Yvonne felt a bit foolish to admit that she had been asking Denny for a crash course on how to be an even half way decent lesbian lover so she told nearly

the truth when she described her first erotic dream of Karen.

"We were on this endless beach with the sun shining down on us with our legs in the surf and we were making love, Karen. That was the first proper time

I felt like that for you, I mean properly and not just romantic hand holding stuff."

Karen arched her eyebrow and her fingertips gently brushed Yvonne's lips.

"I've had the same dream, Yvonne. Just before we had that first date. You know at the pub, the first time. I was looking at you as the sun shining down

on you and I had this very erotic mental picture of you naked. "

Yvonne's sharp memory recalled that day and had that 'Dawn's awakening' look on her face.

"You mean that when you said 'You would turn lesbian like a shot if all it took was a pill.' you were planning to get me into bed even then, Karen? And

I thought you were after my daughter Lauren, not me."

"That's right, Yvonne. Now we've done enough talking, I'm still Wing Governor and I want to show you what my dream was really like. I want to make love

to you all night long." Karen whispered hungrily.

And Yvonne lay on her back while Karen kissed and caressed Yvonne and gradually slid her way down Yvonne's body in a way instinct told Karen was right and

Yvonne felt a rising desire from Karen's subtle touches and a feeling of total certainty in her.

Many hours later, the cold wind blew down the total darkness, past the block of flats where Karen lived which opened onto a pattern of bleak modern roads.

The flats were all in darkness except the tiny pinprick of light in Karen's front window. Inside, that low gentle light smiled sideways kindly on the undulating

shapes of the two women on Karen's bed. Yvonne looked upwards as Karen flicked her hair out of her eyes and she saw the look of total ecstasy and freedom

on Karen's face as her fingers traced a pattern down the damp skin on Karen's back

Of all that had happened in both their turbulent lives, they had both found their freedom in themselves and in each other.

The End

Credits.

Where do I begin on this piece? I'd like to thank Kristine who has been incredibly kind hearted and supportive and of this fic and had a hand behind the

scenes on plotlines where I was unsure. Also, with Henny, they thought up the whole songfic idea which has inspired so much good work that I feel proud

to be part of, really proud. I must thank Wonko, angel face, spikez99, linda's sexy and katty kit for their kindness.

Looking around further it seems that there are a host of artists, who I grew up whose music and words I have loved, Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, John Lennon ,

James Taylor all from a period in the past but I'm glad I picked up on newer artists to 'carry the flame.' Jewel I'm glad I have featured and I would have

picked up on Tori Amos if I could have and other music 'out there' that I have not heard of. The books I have picked out are merely using a different medium.

And so on to the joint fic with Kristine and to keep up with other great ficwriters..


End file.
